


The Son Who Comes

by officialoperaghost



Series: The Son Who Comes [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Multi, Porn With Plot, this gets gay, this is mostly smut let's be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 96,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialoperaghost/pseuds/officialoperaghost
Summary: Papa Emeritus III has a task for a sister of sin: she must get to know the mysterious new transfer to the abbey, the Cardinal, as Papa fears he's going to be replaced.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains a tiny bit of Italian. If it's wrong, let me know and I will edit it!

It had rained all day. As much as I liked the rain, it seemed to make the air inside the abbey’s sprawling buildings thick and oppressive on days when it didn’t let up at all. The majority of ghouls could not go out and would be found loitering in hallways, tails swishing restlessly, or pacing from room to room, agitation evident, looking for trouble. There were no ghouls in these corridors, though. They wouldn’t dare come this way unless sent for. Thick, heavy raindrops pattered against the frosted glass windows on either side, loud enough to almost drown out my footsteps, and I paused briefly to marvel at the patterns the water made on the distorted glass. It was cold. Condensation beaded along the bottom of the windows. I moved on. 

The dark, giant door before me was closed but I knew it wasn’t locked. I trailed a finger over the gloss - it was probably ebony, and incredibly expensive. I rolled my eyes. Theatrics, as always. I decided I would give him the ego-boost of knocking before I entered, twisting the carved silver knob. As soon as I opened the door I was greeted with a blast of heat and the smell of sweet, earthy incense. 

“Papa?” I called, closing it behind me. The shock of going from one extreme of temperature to another meant sweat was already prickling on my forehead. 

He did not seem to mind the heat, even though the fireplace was perpendicular to where his desk was. He glanced up briefly, and flashed a grin. Without saying anything, he unfurled his fingers in the direction of the chair in front of his desk. By the time I sank myself down on it he was working again; the only sounds being the scratching of his pen on the paper and the crackling of the fire as it greedily devoured the thick logs of oak inside it. I swung my legs up over the arm of the chair and undid two buttons from the top of my shirt as I lay back, watching the flames dance and spit as they licked the brickwork, so big they threatened to spill over the grate.

“You’re gonna burn this place down one of these days.” I remarked, running my finger along a seam in the chair’s upholstery. “I don’t think that’s what was meant by everything being being cleansed in fire.” I looked over at him but he wasn’t listening. His face was rested in his palm, his left hand working fast, quick pen strokes over the paper. His lips moved slightly as he wrote, brown furrowing in concentration. I sighed. Looked like he hadn’t called me in for what I had hoped for. 

We sat like that for a while, in comfortable silence, his only movements when he needed another piece of paper or when he smoothed down his hair absentmindedly, engrossed in whatever he was doing. The fire burned bright and I looked at it until there were white spots in my vision, then closed my eyes entirely. Outside, the rain howled. I kicked off my shoes. 

“Comfortable?” He whispered. He was smiling; he picked up his papers and tapped them against the desk until they formed a neat pile, then deposited them in a drawer below him. Then, he folded his hands together and simply looked at me. 

“You sent for me, Papa?” I queried, stretching out. He smiled again, saying nothing. Odd. Usually it was impossible to get him to shut up. 

Righting myself in the chair, I met his gaze. His mismatched eyes crinkled fondly and I rolled my eyes, annoyed that that was enough to make me smile back at him.

“Oh, you old idiot. Did you call me in here just to stare at me?”

“And what if I did?” He replied, leaning back in his chair. 

“Then that’s a dumb use of authority.” I looked around the room. It was dimly lit, as usual, with the fire’s light bathing over the hundreds of old books and tomes that filled the many bookcases lining the walls. The candles in the candelabras had burned down hours ago, with set wax dripping down the twisted black metal as if it were still liquid. My eyes settled on the desk, and I frowned.

“I can’t believe it.” I scoffed. That got him. He rose up a little, eyes widening, brow knitted.

“What is it?”

“You haven’t fucked me on this desk yet.” I did my best to sound disgusted. It worked. He burst out laughing, shaking his head, strands of hair coming loose and resting against his forehead.

“Non l’ho fatto?” He murmured, running his hand over the wood before him. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” I swung around to see behind the back of the chair. “Chaise lounge, floor, walls, in front of the fire, on this chair, on your chair… hell. You haven’t.” I tutted, getting to my feet. 

“It is hard.” He tapped his fingers on it. “I do not want you to be hurt.”

“I can cope.” He rolled back in his chair again and I took the opportunity to walk around his desk and stand before him. He looked up at me, steepling his fingers. I reached out and brushed the stray locks of hair back from his face. His face paint never smeared even when I touched it. I had never seen him without it. Did he set it with varnish? 

“What did you want me for, Papa?” I asked, again. It was actually my day off and if he wasn’t going to do anything other than be grossly romantic with me I had better things to do. He sighed deeply. 

“I have news for you, cara mia. And something to ask of you.” 

“Go on.” I hopped up onto his desk. He took the bait and rolled closer, resting his elbows on my thighs and propping his face up with his hands and he looked up at me. I smiled a little. He was quite handsome, really. The fire coloured the left side of his face and darkened the rest, the shadows betraying the wrinkles forming on his brow and eyes. I wanted to smooth my thumb over his cheek but it would only take him longer to say whatever he needed to say. So I stared down, eyebrow raising.

“Someone is coming.” He explained, voice low and breathy. “Someone new.”

“A new sister?” I prompted. He shook his head, eyes shining.

“A new clergyman. Beneath me, of course.” 

“Of course.” It was hard not to roll my eyes again. “So, what of it?”

“The church does not usually accept new members of clergy.” His eyes lowered, one hand coming to rest on my knee. “It’s very strange, eh?” 

“Sure.” 

His thumb began tracing small circles into my skin. 

“I know very little. They are keeping it quite a secret.” He murmured. “I do not think Papa Nihil has ordered this.” 

“Oh?” My fingers curled over the edge of the desk. His own fingers trailed along my knee, just about onto my inner thigh. 

“I believe it could be Sister Imperator. I’m not sure.” He shrugged a little, hand stopping as his eyes flashed up to me again. “I’m not happy about it.”

“You’re Papa.” I was staring at his hand, willing it to move again. “Can’t you say something?”

“It would not be, ah, professional.” He squeezed lightly. “You understand?”

“You don’t want anyone to know you’re scared?” I offered. He sucked his teeth and laughed, lightly slapping down on my knee.

“Funny girl, as ever. Not scared.” He leaned more heavily into my lap, sighing again. “Preoccupato. Worried, perhaps, in your tongue.”

“Don’t worry about my tongue. I know Italian. Cazzo.” I winked. “How about we start that conversation?”

He laughed again. As much as I hated to admit it, I did like making him laugh. His mirth spread over his whole face. Perhaps it was just nice to see our Papa - our patriarchal, beloved leader - looking so… goofy. 

“You have an only track mind.” He tutted.

“A one track mind.” I corrected, reaching down and scooting his hand a little further under my skirt. 

“No, amore.” He chuckled. “I did have a purpose to call for you. Will you find out about this new clergyman?” 

I pulled a face and he quickly moved his hand further, thumb pressing along the edge of my underwear. He actually batted his eyelashes at me.

“Why me?” 

“You are pretty.” He cooed. “He will talk to you.”

“What am I trying to find out?”

“Why he comes here. What he wants. Who told him to come here.” His eyes bore into me. “Cara, the death of my brother left me with big feet to fill.” 

I chose not to correct him. He blinked a few times and I exhaled slowly. He wasn’t about to get all sentimental on me, was he?

“Perhaps they are not happy with how I am doing. Perhaps this… this Cardinal…” It was his turn to grimace. “... is a replacement.”

“Surely not.” I trailed my fingers down his forearm, as lightly as I could, hoping to bring him back from his thoughts. 

“But perhaps.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “You can find this out for me.” 

“You overestimate my ability to charm strange old men.” Flashing my eyes over him, I shifted about on his desk. “It worked for you, sure, but you’re putting a lot of faith in me.” 

“Will you do it?” He pleaded. I felt his hand twist and quickly slid forward on the desk so he could press his palm over me. The heel of his palm pressed hard over my clit and I jolted. He giggled and I glared at him.

“Will you?” He asked again, rubbing in small circles. I closed my eyes and sighed. “Think if I wasn’t here. What would you do?”

“Some of the ghouls are pretty hot.” I mumbled. His weight shifted from my lap; his other hand threaded through my hair and he pulled my head down to his, ghosting his lips over mine.

“Please?” He whispered, so close I felt the movement of his mouth against my skin. I tilted my head to catch his kiss but he remained just out of reach, hand still grinding against me frustratingly slowly. 

“Fine.” I grunted. “Whatever. Kiss me.” 

He obliged me, but only a single, fleeting peck. My eyes flew open. I was ready to hiss at him. He was smiling widely. 

“Find out all you can and come back to me.” He whispered.

“Yes, whatever.” My fingers tightened on his forearm. I looped my arm around his neck, breathing harder against his cheek, pressing small kisses onto the side of his face as he manoeuvred his hand down my waistband and into my underwear, finally touching my wet skin.

“He comes tomorrow.” He continued conversationally, pushing a finger inside. I gave up trying to kiss his lips and dropped my face into his neck, trying my best to rock my hips in time with his movement but he gripped my hip with his free hand and pinned it to the desk. I mumbled something incoherent in reply. It was if the burn of the fire had reached inside of me, and was glowing like an ember in my stomach. And he was doing the bare minimum to keep it alive. Feet twisting, toes curling, I pressed my lips to his neck and tasted the flesh above his pulse. 

“He will have a new office.” I felt him swallow. I grazed my teeth over the same spot, still sensitive from my kiss. He moaned, barely audible, and pressed another finger into me at last. 

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Ugh. It was embarrassing to beg, even if it was muffled into his neck. Even when he needed me for something he was still an insufferable tease. “I’ll hang around him. I’ll talk to him. I’ll suck him off if I need to.” 

Bad move. His fingers curled sharply inside me and I cried out, moving to pull away but he held me in place, tracing his lips over my cheek until they reached my ear. 

“Tu sei mia, cara.” He scolded, his tongue beginning to trail along the shell of my ear. 

I could only nod, hopefully emphatically enough he would believe it. The pad of his thumb began to circle my clit and he finally, finally caught my lips in his own. Weaving my fingers through his hair, I kissed him as deeply as I could, gripping on a little tighter than I probably should have. He didn’t mind; he moaned, low and deep, in response, as I tugged lightly on his hair.

“Fuck me.” I groaned, grinding my hips down onto his hand, feeling the knot inside me beginning to tighten. He shook his head, pressed his forehead against mine. All I could see were his eyes. Instinctively, I closed my own.

“No time. Busy.” He muttered. Then, with conviction: “Look at me.”

“I’m close.” I whined, screwing my eyes closed, gripping his hair tighter as he sped up. 

“Lo so. Look at me. I want to look at me when you do.” 

I did as he asked, watching him react as I shuddered through my orgasm, moaning his name breathlessly. He kissed me until my head spun, still grinding his fingers into me until I was spent. Then, he pulled away and gripped me by my knees once more, fixing me with an intense look.

“Tomorrow.” He whispered. “You talk to him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Cardinal! He doesn't talk much.

The pounding on my door started when I was halfway into my stockings, and it did not stop until I had my shoes on. Opening it, I was greeted with the sight of three younger Sisters from my wing of the dormitory.

“Sorry to bother you, Sister, but -”

“Papa has asked for you!” Another chimed in quickly, bobbing from foot to foot.

The one who had been speaking originally gave her a hard thwack across the head that nearly knocked her head covering off.

“Idiot! I wanted to say it!”

“Papa always asks for you, Sister. Is that what it’s like to be a Senior?” The only one who hadn’t spoken - until now - was regarding me carefully. 

“Sort of.” I shrugged. “Depends. Did he say where?”

“The Great Hall.”

I clucked my tongue. 

“You sure? Not his office? The attic of the chapel? The third broom closet on the fifth floor?”

They giggled, and I made some shooing motions for them to move from my door but they remained in place, clamouring around me.

“I can’t keep Papa waiting if he has asked for me. Move, Sisters.”

“It’s so exciting you get to talk to him!” She had finally fixed her covering, wrenching the last bobby pin into place. I gave up and gently pushed them aside, beginning to walk down the hall.

“I spoke to him once. After a sermon.” The first one insisted.

“Well I spoke to him after a ritual!”

“Girls, the thing with Papa is that he never shuts up.” I rolled my eyes. They traipsed after me, chattering away.

“Why has he sent for you, Sister?” 

“I don’t know.”

I knew. It must be this new clergyman. I didn’t dare say anything to these junior Sisters - they’d be in hysterics from excitement before we’d even made it to the ground floor.

They continued to shadow me down the stairs. The Sister with the now wonky covering kept twitching it from side to side, before finally ripping it off, flustered.

“Screw it. I’m not gonna wear it.”

“I thought we had to?!” 

“Do you see me wearing mine?” I pointed out. We passed a fire ghoul staring out of the window. He didn’t turn to look at us, or even acknowledge us, beyond the swaying of his tail as he watched the downfall outside. I could hear the rain all night and all morning - even in my dorm room, which was tucked in the centre of the third floor. Walking on the outer parts of the abbey, you could hear it in its totality as it beat against the walls, howling. I deliberately slowed down as we passed the common area door, hoping the smell of breakfast cooking would lure them away from me, but no such luck. Our footsteps reverberated on the stone floors, echoing one after the other in a non stop chain.

“You don’t have to wear it. It’s a choice. Some Sisters don’t even wear the full habits.” She stuffed her covering into her pocket and smiled smugly. 

“I heard some Sisters don’t even wear underwear.” 

I opened the door to the room adjoining the Great Hall, and there was a clamour of Sisters of all years hovering around, along with a few ghouls. The walls buzzed with their excited conversation and the ghouls were attempting to shepard some of them away from the door. Thankfully, my shadows darted off to meet with a group of their friends. I caught the eye of another senior Sister, who nodded at me once. 

“Sister. Papa called for you.”

“I know. What’s going on?”

“I wasn’t here this morning, but Sister June said she saw another man in there with Papa.” She gestured at the groups of girls hanging by the door to the Great Hall. “They’re all waiting to catch a glimpse.”

“I’d better get in there.” 

Easier said than done. I stood behind the gaggle of Sisters and motioned a few times for them to let me past. They largely ignored me, muttering among themselves. I curled my lip.

“Sisters. Move away from the door.” 

“But Sister! There’s a new man in there!” One proclaimed.

“Yes. I know. And Papa. As well as Papa Nihil. And probably Sister Imperator, at that. Do you really want me to go in there and tell her that you were being insolent to a senior Sister - especially one who Papa has called for?” 

That worked. They parted like the Red Sea and I took my opportunity, darting forward. I opened the door as little as possible and squeezed through, slamming it closed before any little faces could peep through. I turned quickly - and nearly barrelled straight into Papa Nihil.

“Seestor!” He chuckled, lightly placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I did my best to smile up at him. His cloudy eyes studied me for a second and then he let go. 

“Papa has need of you.” He winked. “Let’s not keep our new friend waiting, hm?” 

Sister Imperator was indeed there, a few steps away, surveying the scene with her lips pressed tight. I bowed my head at her and she raised an eyebrow.

Papa was dressed up in his finest. Hair slicked back, face painted, smile gleaming, eyes twinkling, he was talking so animatedly to our new guest that the Grucible he wore was bouncing against his chest, glinting under the lights. I could tell by Sister Imperator’s expression that he had been talking for a while.

Unsurprisingly. 

That left our new clergyman - the Cardinal - who stood before Papa, not much taller than him, dressed entirely in black, complete with biretta - and completely soaked. There was actually a puddle around his feet where he had stood dripping. Dark paint around his flickering eyes had ran down his cheeks. Either side of him sat a large trunk. The end of his fascia hung heavily against his leg, and every few seconds a large droplet would collect there, hang, then fall off. He looked over at me and I was struck by his mismatched eyes, so similar to Papa’s - who grabbed his hand and pumped it in an enthusiastic handshake that the Cardinal did not seem to fully reciprocate, blinking in bewilderment. 

“It is so good to meet you, Cardinal. I am sure you will be, ah, very comfortable here.” Papa grinned, then his attention turned to me.

“Sister! You made it. This is the Cardinal. The new clergyman, you know.” Panic glinted in his eyes for a second and he coughed. 

“Not that you know - you’ve only just met him, of course! I was just, um, oh -” 

“Sister, could you take the Cardinal to his new office?” Imperator interrupted, giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Papa gathered himself while I stared at him. He was actually an idiot. I’d have to make sure to tell him that later. 

“Yes! The Cardinal! And his office! Take him!” Papa flourished his hands. 

We stood for a few long moments. Another drop rolled off the Cardinal and splashed onto the floor. Nihil dug in his chasuble and retrieved a boiled sweet. Sister Imperator moved quickly to stop him from unwrapping it. 

“Of course I’ll take the Cardinal to his office.” I looked at him, but his eyes had drifted to the large stained glass windows. “... Where is it?” 

The awkwardness was making me physically itchy. Imperator rubbed her forehead and grimaced. Papa’s smile slowly died. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning and I was already ready to go back to bed.

“By the library, I believe.” Nihil’s crooked fingers rattled over the wrapper, crackling filling the silence. “It seems our new friend has a penchant for books.”

“Alright. Thank you, Papa.” I reached to grab one of his trunks but in the first movement he had made since I arrived, he bent and picked them both up simultaneously, and looked at me. I went for the door I had come through, but stopped in my tracks and went to the other side of the hall. Imagine. A dripping wet Cardinal traipsing through groups of excitable Sisters. Though his face hadn’t exactly moved much, I could tell he was glad to be getting out of there. I glanced over my shoulder and he was dutifully following after me. I held the door for him but he stopped dead, never taking his eyes off me for a second. 

I didn’t know what to say during the trek to the library. It didn’t look like he was going to say anything, either. A friendly water ghoul peeked around a corner as we approached, his ears darting straight up when he noticed the new arrival. 

“Shouldn’t you be outside, enjoying the rain?” I smiled. The ghoul shrugged and fell in step beside me, looking over his shoulder to steal some very indiscreet looks at our companion. 

“You should. You don’t know how long it’ll last and then all the other ghouls will be out, too.”

“The fire ghouls are so pissed.” The water ghoul whispered. “It’s not going to stop for days.”

“Great. I can’t wait for the fights.” It dawned on me we were excluding our guest, and I swiftly smiled over at him. 

“Were there ghouls are your archdiocese, Cardinal?” 

He shook his head, eyes travelling up and down the water ghoul’s frame. The ghoul felt him looking and flicked his tail suggestively, smiling. I rolled my eyes. The church celebrated all sins, but it seemed like lust was everyone’s favourite. Digging my elbow into the ghoul’s ribs, I fixed him with the most judgemental look I could muster. The guy was ancient. Freckly. Had a weird little moustache, and sideburns. Not the most attractive by any stretch. 

“Have you… been around ghouls before?” I asked. The Cardinal nodded. His lips parted slightly. I thought he was going to speak. It turned out he was just a little out of breath. 

“Where are we going?” The ghoul quizzed, scratching at one of his horns.

“I’m taking the Cardinal to his office. You’re turning down the next corridor and staying out of trouble.” 

“The library?” He huffed as we neared the door. “Yeah, I’ll give it a miss. Goodbye, Sister. Goodbye, Your Eminence.” He bowed and darted off. 

“This is the library.” I said, pushing open the door. I cringed as soon as I said it. There was a wooden plaque beside the door saying exactly that. Like he couldn’t read.  
“I imagine your office is one of the rooms in the corridor beyond the door on the back. I’ll show you there.”

Again, he waited for me to go through the door before quickly heading through himself. The smell of old paper and dust began to permeate my sinuses. It immediately took me back to my first years here as a Sister, doing Latin lessons with Papa Nihil. We would all sit on one of the long, varnished tables in the centre of the room, hidden by the sprawling labyrinth of bookcases, and he would sit at the head of the table and tell us stories until Sister Imperator came to get us for our next class. We never did get much Latin done.

The wall to the left of the library was topped with a thin line of windows, which - due to the gloom outside - was barely throwing any light on the giant room. I flicked on the lights and they sputtered and blinked before waking up and casting an orange glow on the space. The right wall and the wall behind us was floor to ceiling with books, with sliding ladders to get to the higher ones. To our right was some steps leading to an elevated seating area where some senior Sisters came to study once in a blue moon. In every available space that wasn’t taken up by the carpet walkway, there was a bookshelf, crammed with tomes and journals and scrolls, books piled back to front and higgledy-piggledy and shoved haphazardly next to each other. Dewey’s decimals had long been forgotten, it seemed. 

“It’s a bit of a maze in here.” When I turned to look at him, he was staring at everything, eyes wide. His knuckles were white from gripping onto the trunks. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Let’s go, Cardinal. I think your office is this way.”

He was like a kid in a candy store. I walked him around the bookcases and he lingered - ever so slightly - each time we passed one, his eyes burning as he quickly scanned the shelves. I had to keep checking he was on my trail, conscious that all it would take would be me turning a corner too fast and he would be hopelessly lost in this network. We passed the long tables and beyond, further back, until we reached the door. Through it was a tiny corridor with two other doors; an office, and a modest living quarters. I opened the door to the office and we went in. 

He finally set down the trunks. He looked around. It was quite small, with a desk facing the door, a window on the far wall. Along the right was a long bench. A bookcase took up most of the left side, so big you almost hit it when you swung the door open fully. There were a few cabinets about for his documents, a candelabra, some sconces on the walls and then that was it. 

I didn’t know if he wanted me to leave so I stood. He had not said a single word to me. Now, he gripped his fascia and squeezed it, then shook his hands down once to slough the water onto the floor. 

“I hope you find it to your liking.” I said, watching him wander over to the window. “The other door is your room, too. I imagine Papa had the bed made and some towels put in there for you.”

He looked over at me and nodded, then resumed his watch at the window. I frowned. 

Talk to him. 

Papa expected me to get this guy to spill, and he hadn’t even said so much as a whisper this whole time. If I was being honest, I’d rather naively assumed I could just come down here with him, chat a bit, get what I needed and leave. Now it seemed I would have to spend more time with this guy. 

His back was turned so I pulled a face at the thought. No. I’d just have to tell Papa I couldn’t do it. I shifted from foot to foot, glancing at my watch. It was almost time for first lessons. 

“Excuse me, Cardinal, but I’ve gotta go.”

Turning again, he took a few steps towards me, eyes fixed on the window. When he finally dragged them away he had reached me and he stopped a foot away from me, looking at me quite intently. I burned under his gaze but knew better than to look away from a member of authority, no matter how weird. So instead I met his eyes and smiled as placidly as I could. 

“Thank you, Cardinal.” I said, even though I had nothing to thank him for. We stood for a few seconds longer and then he reached out, taking my hand in his wet, gloved one, and bowed to bring my fingers briskly to his mouth in a small peck.

“Copia.” He rasped, his breath warm on my skin. “My name is Copia.” 

With that, he returned to the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a shot every time I wrote Cardinal. die of alcohol poisoning. 
> 
> bully me to write at copious-amounts-of-copia.tumblr.com !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa is a dork and the Cardinal continues to be shifty.

It had been a long day. As it stopped raining for a grand total of five minutes, I had to supervise a group of junior Sisters outside in the late morning as they had to gather items for their Naturalism lessons. And no matter how many times you tell a gaggle of hysterical girls not to go near the mud, at least one of them is going in the mud. Or in this case, three. 

After that, it was Latin, taught by Imperator, who was quite nice at best and an absolute demon at worst. Latin was my nemesis. Ever since Papa Nihil ‘taught’ us it in first year, I had found it impossible to grasp. It wasn’t good enough for Sister Imperator that I was still bumbling my way through stupid, basic sentences. She made me stay behind like a naughty school child and study an extra text, standing over me while the minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly and the pen slid about in my slippery palm.  
I was finally heading back to my room. Maybe I could get a quick nap in before supper. 

Directly beside me, a door flew open. I started so suddenly I slammed up against the wall. 

Papa’s stupid face peeked out of the broom closet. 

“Ciao, amore.” 

“You just gave me a heart attack.” I hissed. He beckoned quickly and, groaning, I slipped inside the dank little room.

He closed the door, plunging the cramped space into darkness. Then, he reached out, feeling blindly where I was even though I was pressed pretty close to him. 

“What do you want?” His hands found my arms and he pulled me closer, sliding his own around me. I stayed stiff as a board for a few seconds, then let myself be hugged.

“This Cardinal. What did you find out?” He whispered it right into my hair, making my scalp tingle. I shrugged, looping my arms around his waist and closing my tired eyes.

He clucked his tongue, squeezing me a little tighter. The smell of his cologne and of musky incense was intoxicating, and he was so warm. Dimly, I wondered if it would at all be possible to sneak him into my room for a nap. Surely he could wait until everyone left and then slip out later on… 

“This is not an answer, cara.”

“I didn’t find anything out. He barely said four words to me.”

“What did he say?” His grip tightened. My eyes opened. It was getting a little hard to breathe. 

“Oof. He just told me his name.”

“And?” 

“That’s it. Papa, I don’t think I can do it.”

Planting his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me away until my back hit the other wall with a thump.

“What?”

“He doesn’t talk! I tried to talk to him - a ghoul even tried to hit on him, gross - and he barely reacted. What am I meant to do?” 

“Yes, he was quite, ah, quiet, when I spoke to him. Well, he will be warm to you.”

“So I’m to keep harassing this guy - one of the most senior members of the clergy - until he speaks to me?” 

“Yes.” I didn’t need to see his face to know he was serious. 

“Papa, this is insane.” 

“Sister, you said!” He whined, loudly. Too loud. I shushed him quickly. 

“What will you do when he comes to you complaining about a sister that won’t leave him alone? Also how the hell am I supposed to find excuses to go see him? Papa, it’s not doable. Come on.”

“I will not come on!” He huffed. “He will not complain. Sister, this is very important. What if he is to replace me?!” 

“I’m sure he’s not. Just bloody ask him, I don’t know.” 

My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark, and I could see him staring at me, eyes narrowed, frowning. The white of his left eye seemed to shine out at me, and a shiver ran down my spine. After a long moment he let go of my shoulders, folded his arms, and began to sulk. 

“You have to see my point here.” I sighed.

“No point to be seen.” He grumbled. “You make the excuses. You will see him today.” 

“I’ve already seen him. And I told you what happened.” 

“No, you misunderstand.” He tutted. “At supper I will present him to everyone. A formal affair.” 

“Oh? Is that why the cooks have been baking all day? Are we having cake to celebrate?” 

His eyes lit up. He grabbed my hand, delighted.

“Oh, vero?! I didn’t know! What kind?” 

I smiled at him, then shrugged.

“I heard one of the ghouls talking about Devil’s Food Cake.” 

He giggled, playing with my fingers.

“Very cute!” Then, in an instant, he gasped loudly and dropped my hand like it was red hot.

“No! I’m not to touch you, now.” 

“Please.” I scoffed. “I’m seeing you later, anyway.”

“No.” He was back to sulking, shoulders by his ears, arms folded with great theatrics. 

“You are joking?” 

“No. I asked you nice and you aren’t doing it. So I won’t touch you at all. I am…” He gestured for a few seconds, drawing in his breath. “... very angry.”

“Great.” I said, flatly. “Fine. I’ll try again.”

He beamed at me. So much for that anger. Within seconds he was kissing me, pulling me tight against him again, his tongue sweeping over my lower lip before dipping into my mouth. I reached up and threaded my fingers through his hair, my other hand sliding down his midriff. He caught my wrist quickly, chuckling against my mouth.  
“No, Sister. Not now. I must change. I cannot present our friend like this.”

“You met him like this.” I tugged at his casual clothes. He shrugged.

“Non è importante. I keep up appearances for my friends and followers only, not this strange man.” He trailed his hands over my back, pulling me back in so he could rest his chin on my head. I closed my eyes, squeezing him tight.

“His hat is silly.” He mumbled. “Don’t you think?”

“It’s just a hat.” 

“Mine is better.” He insisted, rocking me absentmindedly. 

“Don’t go to this assembly thing. Let’s just stay in here.” I kissed his neck, and then his jaw, and yawned. He chuckled and, unfortunately, pulled way once more. Cradling my face in his hands, he brushed his thumbs over my cheeks, a little smile playing on his lips as he looked at me. 

“Believe me, mio tesoro, I want this. But I have to.” The lines around his eyes deepened slightly when he frowned. 

“You are tired.”

“Yeah, well, I was planning a nap until I was pulled into a closet with a strange man.” I tutted, peeling his hands from my face. I planted a kiss in his palm and shot him a smile, which he grinned at. 

“Go, Papa, you’re going to be late.” 

He did as he was told, leaving a small kiss on my forehead before he opened the door. 

-

I had never seen a man look so uncomfortable. 

Papa, in full regalia, stood before us all in the Grand Hall, flanked by Nihil and Imperator. He was grinning, joking, laughing - ever the showman, his charisma was so infectious that when I glanced around at the other tables, every other Sister of Sin was watching him, enthralled, hundreds of eyes illuminated by the sconcelight. He was speaking fluently and easily. It was always obvious whenever he had pre-written cards. Sister Imperator threaded her arm through Papa Nihil’s, beaming. 

A few steps away stood the Cardinal, staring resolutely at the floor, his face almost as red as his cassock. He reminded me of a schoolkid brought to the front of the class for a scolding. His hands were clasped tightly and pulled close to his chest, his gloves the same jewel-red as the rest of his vestments. I couldn’t help but stare at him, fascinated with this strange little man. He glanced up occasionally, eyes flitting around at the vast assembly of Sisters before him, and I could almost see the panic in them.   
“And so it is with, eh, great pleasure,” Papa winked, “that I present you with our new senior member - Cardinal Copia.” 

A smattering of applause broke out and the Cardinal’s head dropped lower. The tips of his ears were turning red. 

“Cardinal, is there anything you would like to say to our Sisters?” The golden threads embroidered into Papa’s chasuble glinted as he gestured out towards us. I rested my chin on my hand. The Cardinal glanced up again, eyes widening when he noticed we were all looking at him expectantly. 

“God, he’s weird, isn’t he?” The Sister beside me whispered. I nodded curtly, curling my lip. 

A deer in headlights. It was silent. I could actually hear the leather of his gloves squeaking as he wrung his hands, staring out at us, his throat bobbing when he swallowed hard. 

He shook his head.

Papa’s smile wavered. He blinked a few times and then forced a laugh.

“Vedo… okay…” Reaching onto the podium, he tapped his cards together and cleared his throat. I rubbed my forehead. The secondhand embarrassment was unbearable. The same Sister who spoke to me turned and gazed at me again, eyes wide, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’. I shrugged helplessly and, peeking between my fingers, continued watching this spectacle. 

“It seems our friend is, ah, a little shy, yes?” Papa shrugged. “No worrying. More time in the future for that. For now, welcome.” 

He squinted down at the cards.

“Our beloved Papa Nihil will now say a few words. Hopefully he will not keep you much longer - I can see the ghouls eyeing up supper already.” He grinned. We clapped again as the two Papas exchanged places. My Papa was squinting again, over at us on the senior Sister table. He caught sight of me and grinned widely, and I rolled my eyes at him, smiling back. 

“Thank you, Papa.” Nihil began, his strange, heavily accented voice filling the room. “We are honoured to welcome our new member into this clergy. I believe it was ten years ago when…” 

The same Sister turned to me once more. 

“He actually looks like he’s about to cry. Poor guy. Why have they hired him?” 

“He was already hired in a different place. They just transferred him here.” 

“He ain’t a fan of people, that’s for sure.” She giggled. “He keeps looking at the door.” 

“... a forefront in ancient Luciferian tomes translation and transcription…”

“I’m starving. It was a lame joke but I wouldn’t put it past the ghouls to start eating without us.” She murmured. 

“We’re having cake today, too.”

“I could smell it all day.” 

“... incomparable expertise in Latin, choral or otherwise…” 

“Maybe he’s our new Latin teacher?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Would make sense. Papa Nihil isn’t exactly the best at staying on track. All the junior Sisters already know you only have to ask him one thing about his past and he rambles on for an hour.” 

“Could you imagine him teaching a classroom of the junior Sisters?” I smirked. 

“I can’t imagine a single word coming out of his mouth, if I’m honest.” She looked over at him again. “I’m serious. He’s going to run for it.” 

She had a point. His entire body was tense. His clasped hands had become fists, pulled up high on his chest as if he were praying. His head was tipped so far forward you could scarcely see his face under the biretta. His large, outlined eyes were fixed pointedly at the door. 

Suddenly everyone was clapping again. I joined in quickly. The Cardinal’s head snapped up and he saw the two Papas and Sister Imperator disband, going over to their seats. Dropping his fists, he exhaled, trembling, then beetled away into a shadowy corner. 

The water ghoul from yesterday, who had been leaning on the wall behind us to watch the ceremony, darted forward and pushed at me lightly to move.

“Move up! Give me some room. Let me sit down.”

“There’s no room, you idiot.” I hissed, but we bunched up and he managed to squeeze in, staring at us triumphantly, tail neatly curling behind him. He steepled his hands.

“Evening, Sisters.” 

“Why are you here? Go sit with the other ghouls, moron.” A Sister opposite us scoffed. He tutted and shook his head.

“You guys are right by the door. First table to be served after Papa’s.” 

“So you’re not sitting here out of your love for your dear senior Sisters?” 

“If there wasn’t cake on the line I wouldn’t even be talking to you.” He winked. 

I looked over at Papa’s table. Their food had been served to them, hot steam rising from the silver platters. The Cardinal was seated at the end, besides Papa, who was chatting away to him while he moved the food about with his fork. Papa was smiling but I could see the frown line deeply etched into his forehead. This guy was pissing him off by being so quiet. Looked like I was going to be receiving a heavy bitching session at some point.

“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” The ghoul noted.

“Yeah.” I smiled a little, watching Papa drinking deep from a crystal glass. Then I blinked and whipped my head over at him.

“Wait, no! Who?” 

“The Cardinal. He’s got that whole silent thing going on. I love a man with a little mystery.” 

“He isn’t.” I pulled a face. “Besides, when did you like mystery? Everyone knows you put out on the first date.” 

“Shut up.” He snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a slow one sorry. Starts getting more interesting next chapter I promise u


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sister breaks curfew b/c she's an idiot.

‘Mia amore... mia amore…’

Papa’s lips ghosted over my jaw as he settled between my legs, his skin hot against my own. His hands sliding up to clasp my own, he pinned them into the bed, whispering those two words over and over, hips grinding against me. Dazed, my motions were slow, but eventually I wrapped my legs around him, attempting to talk with no success. He swam in and out of my vision but his touch remained, blistering my flesh, the sweet impatience tightening in my stomach.

‘Mia amore…’ 

I burned. I pined. I willed him to continue but he didn’t, lavishing his attention on me, smothering me, but doing nothing to stop the throbbing between my legs. I threw my head back and begged. He did not hear me.

Over his shoulder, I noticed a figure, flickering on the edges of periphery. A silhouette my flustered mind could not make out at first. 

Then I saw his eyes. Outlined in black. Watching.

Hungry.

-

I woke with a start, heart pounding, thighs pressed together. My breath came quickly; I sat up, grasping the sheets around me, and stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to calm the whirr in my head. My small dorm room, cloaked in darkness, surrounded me, as mundane as always. The curtain wafted from a breeze creeping in through the open window, the rain pattering lightly against the glass as always. Picking up the corners of the twisted sheets, I flicked them out so they fell flat, a burst of cool air prickling over my hot skin. 

What a dream. 

Slowly, I lay back down, staring up at the crack in the ceiling, eyes flickering as I sorted through my thoughts. My stomach was tight, and I was wet. Frowning, I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes.

Why was I awake? 

The dream… Papa. I sighed and glanced over at the clock glowing on my bedside table. Three in the morning. He would probably still be awake. It was entirely possible for me to sneak out, down to his quarters. I imagined opening the door and peering inside, seeing him at his desk, working. Or better still, creeping into his bedroom, sliding into his bed, pulling myself close as he rolled over and put his hand down my pyjama pants… 

As quick as lightning, I bolted upright.

Oh. Fuck.

“Shit.” I hissed, kicking the sheets off. “Shit, shit, shit!”

The realisation was more chilling than the night air; it slapped me in the face at a hundred miles an hour. Moaning, I tried to cram my feet into my slippers as quickly as possible.

Imperator had not been impressed by my slapdash efforts of Latin. And she had informed me I had to present her with proof I was actually doing extra work to improve, because me swearing on the Dark Lord himself wasn’t enough for her. She was expecting it. Tomorrow. 

And I had nothing.

“You idiot.” I groaned, throwing a dressing gown around me. “Oh, you idiot.” 

I raided my bookshelf and, as Latin was one of things I despised most in this wretched world, absolutely none of my books were textbooks on the damned dead language. I fisted my hands through my hair and whined. 

I half-crept, half dashed down the black corridor before I stopped dead, turned back, and retrieved my small lantern. I considered for a moment taking my rosary. It would be a miracle not to be seen in the hallways after curfew, and I needed all the help I could get. I darted back out, closing my door with a quiet click behind me, and set off hurriedly.

My slippers made strange little smacking noises on the floor as I went. I didn’t dare light my lantern yet. I had a vivid vision of me coaxing it to life only for its orange glow to reveal the furious figure of Sister Imperator herself directly in front of me. Sweeping down the stairs, I almost lost my footing, caught myself on the bannister, and kept dashing. 

I had to loiter in a corner for a few seconds, away from the gaze of two ghouls having a late-night rendezvous. They were talking in their strange language, bathed in the light of the moon. Then, they lifted their masks and kissed. I took my chance and bolted past. 

At long, long last I reached the library. I waited until I was inside and the door was sealed before I dropped to my knees and lit the lantern, turning its light up slowly so I wouldn’t blind myself. I stood up and waited a few moments, breathing in the still, dusty air, then tiptoed my way into the bookcase labyrinth.

Latin. Those books were towards the middle, weren’t they? But then again, I had seen some in the raised seating area before, surely? Other Senior sisters were often there to study it. Pausing, heart pounding, I cast the light from the lantern over two aisles, chose one, and ambled down, scanning the shelves. I crouched down to look at some of the lower books - and nearly had a heart attack there and then.

There was another glow - another light - beaming through the cracks of the books.

Someone else was here. 

Oh, Lucifer, help me. It wouldn’t be another Sister, which meant it had to be a senior member. There was a tiny chance it was Papa. There was a huge chance it was Imperator. 

Panicking, I killed my lantern light, and crouched down, hand over my heart to stop it pounding out of my chest. The glow lifted, then moved down the aisle. My teeth dug into my lip. It dimmed as it came around the corner and then shone at me, brilliant orange light, as it appeared at the end of the aisle I was in. 

Grabbing my own lantern, I stood up quickly, cringing away from the light. 

The Cardinal stared over at me. He was in his casual clothes, and I wanted to die from embarrassment. You did not see clergy members out of vestments. I felt like I had walked in on him bathing or something. 

“C-Cardinal.” I gasped. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

He took a small step towards me, then hesitated, wavering. 

“I’ll go back to bed. I’m sorry. I just needed a book.” 

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t done the Latin work now. As soon as he told Imperator I was out of bed at these hours, traipsing around the library, I was done for. I was now doomed to spend all my free time in her office, no doubt writing lines or whatever medieval punishment she could conjure. He crept down the aisle quite carefully, and peered at me. 

“What book?” He murmured. 

I swallowed. His voice was raspy, and not out of place with the silence around us. 

“Latin, Cardinal. I need a Latin textbook. I’m so sorry to interrupt you.” 

He shrugged, eyes wandering up to the shelves. 

“Not here.” 

With that, he turned and went back down the aisle. I stood, frozen, until he glanced over his shoulder at me. Then I followed, stomach twisting. 

He led me a few aisles down until we reached the central seating area, the long wooden tables reflecting back the light from his lantern. He raised it high and studied some shelves as he went past, narrowing his eyes in the gloom. I trailed behind him, chewing my lip, clutching my lamp to my chest. He paused again, and while he looked, I noticed the books here were now in sets, neatly lined up, not crammed or bent or back to front in the shelves. Looking as far down the aisle as his light would let me, I could see row after row of organised books. Was that what he was doing? At three o’clock in the morning?

He reached up and ran his finger over a few thick volumes before selecting one, gently removing it. He turned and held it out to me, a weighty blue book, slightly battered, with a raised golden inscription on the front: Advanced Latin.

Oh, kill me. I smiled weakly but he just looked at me, waiting for me to take the damned book.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal - thank you, I mean - but I’m not advanced. Nowhere near.” 

I physically felt his eyes go over me. If there was ever a time for Lucifer to open a pit directly to hell under someone’s feet, it was right now. I just hoped the orange of his light counteracted how red my cheeks were. 

“Why?” He queried, and I wanted to cry. 

I shook my head, shuffling my slippered feet. 

“I’m not very good at it. It doesn’t make much sense to me, that’s all. It’s all nonsense when I read it.” My blood ran cold as soon as the words left my lips. Hadn’t Nihil said he was some sort of Latin expert? And here I was, basically saying how stupid it was. 

He simply placed the book back into its spot and pulled out the one beside it, offering that one to me instead; the same colour, the same golden inscription, but this time it was intermediate level. I reached out to take it. He held onto it for a moment, looking at me intently, then let me have it. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, tucking it under my arm. “I-I think Latin is… fine. I’m probably just too dumb to understand it.” 

“No.” He muttered. “It’s hard.” 

Silence. I looked down at the floor. I rubbed my sole into a faded spot in the carpet, trying to steady my breathing. My stomach was still tight, my skin burning under my pyjamas. When I dared glance up again he was also looking away, gazing aimlessly at the books. 

“Maybe you could help me with it sometime?” 

The words hung around us for a few seconds before I even realised it was me who had said it. Eyes wide, I just stared at him, horrified. He looked over at me, visibly taken aback, blinking a little. 

“If… if you want.” 

Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting that. His intense gaze demanded an answer, so I just nodded quickly, then shrugged, then grinned like a moron.

With the blood-curdling fear of Imperator waning, my sleepy brain switched back to the second most pressing emotion of the night. There was still a dull ache between my legs, and as I shifted under his stare I could feel a flush creeping over my chest. 

“It’s late.” He remarked in his quiet tone, his eyes flickering over me. “Get some sleep.”

“Yes, Cardinal. Thank you for your help.” I squeezed the book into my chest, watching him for a few seconds longer. His interest was back on the books, scanning over their titles reverently. The glow outlined the silhouette of his face, the dip of his nose, his painted lip. He looked a little surprised when he glanced over and saw I was still there.

“Yes?” He muttered, gruffly.

“Sorry.” I stumbled over my feet in my haste to leave, scuttling away into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut and awkwardness!

“Really? You want me to talk about him right now?” I glared up at Papa, incredulous. 

“Just quick. Before we start.” He peered down at me.

“You’re actually unbelievable.” I started to get up from my knees but he pushed on my shoulders, laughing.

“Go on. Did he talk to you?” 

“I can’t believe this.” I shook my head. “I actually can’t believe this. This is a new level of debauchery.”

He snorted, laughing heartily, its deep timbre filling the office. 

“Sister!” 

“No, wait, I get it. You’re getting your rocks off to him.” I tutted. “I’m not enough for you anymore. You need me to talk about him while I suck your dick.” 

Grimacing, he shook his head quickly. 

“It is why I said before we start.”

“No, he didn’t speak to me. I bumped into him in the library and he helped me find a book.” I pressed my palm onto his crotch, feeling him through his trousers. He was already a little hard; I stroked my hand over the outline of his cock.

“Hm.” 

“But I did ask him for Latin lessons. So there’s that.” 

Leaning forward, I mouthed at the fabric that was stretching tighter over his dick, sucking lightly on his head through his pants. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly. 

“R-Right. Good. You see him more that way.”

“Mhm.” I hummed, reaching up to slide his shirt up his stomach. With my free hand, I unzipped his fly. “You said you wanted me to talk to him. So I am.”

“He doesn’t talk, does he?” He grumbled. He slid his hand over my jaw, then reached into his pants to pull himself out. Papa was never one for underwear. 

Holding his thick length in his hand, he stroked it a few times, the head already glistening with precum. Each beat of my pulse pounded between my legs. Wrapping my hand around it, I teased my tongue over the slit slowly, tasting how salty he was, then lightly sucked his head into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks. I looked up at him and he stared down at me, jaw slack, running his fingers into my hair. 

“Cazzo.” He groaned, and I swirled my tongue over the tip in response. His eyes fluttered closed. I pulled away, licking my lips. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty quiet.” I muttered, then dragged my tongue along the underside of his cock, pausing to tease the sensitive skin on the underside of his head with the tip of my tongue. He moaned low in his chest, his hand wrenching my hair, and I smirked. It was so easy to get him worked up like this. I gripped the base of him with my left hand and pushed the other one into my underwear, catching my clit between two fingers and rubbing hard. 

“Hopefully I’ll be able to get him to open up more.” I continued, as casually as I could. He looked down at me again, breathing hard, my scalp stinging from his tight grasp.

“I don’t like him.” He grunted. “Shifty. Shifty little man. Fuck.”

He gasped as I pushed him into my mouth, twisting my hand over his shaft as I moved, sucking hard enough that his eyes rolled back and he moaned again. My entire body was hot. I curled some fingers into myself and moaned, sliding my head forward as far as I could until I choked a bit. I raised myself up from my haunches so I could swallow his dick completely, squeezing my eyes closed to stop them from watering. My nose pressed against his pelvis; he groaned, low, deep enough in his chest that I could feel it through the hand I’d pressed onto his stomach. I worked him like that for a while, bobbing up and down. My thighs were starting to burn from holding myself up but the noises he was making were just too fucking good to stop. 

He thrust into my mouth, slowly at first, then as quick as my throat would let him. Sliding my fingers back up to my clit, I looked up at him as my fucked my mouth. The fog of arousal swept over me in a landslide and in that moment, I was utterly obsessed with him, his throaty moans and growls, the taste of him, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of his hands wrapped carefully around my jaw. My thighs shook. His eyes were closed, tight, mouth open, panting. From the erratic, jerky strokes of his hips I could tell he was getting close. So was I. 

I coaxed the heat between my legs until it soared and crashed and I fell onto my haunches again, his dick slipping from my mouth, a half-broken groan erupting from my throat. Reaching up, I maneuvered my hand over him and pushed the tip back between my lips, rolling my tongue around the head and working him until he came, hot, down my throat.

I’d barely come down. He was already ushering me to my feet to stand before him, gripping me and pulling me down for a vicious, crushing kiss; his tongue sweeping into my mouth, his hand pushing mine away to he could touch my now overly-sensitive skin. Climbing onto his lap, I kissed him back, fingers fumbling to undo the shining silver buttons of his shirt. His fingers twisted inside me, and he smirked when I choked back a moan. 

“Bastard.” I groaned, stroking my hand over the now exposed skin of his chest. With a sigh that burned my skin, he pressed kiss after kiss onto my neck. His fingers churning inside me, I could feel the build tightening in my gut. I trailed my lips over his throat. Each movement of my hips made his chair squeak in distress.   
Out of nowhere, he froze, staring over my shoulder. I immediately whipped round, exhaling quickly, my nails digging into his skin. We were still alone. The bubble of horror burst, sweet relief rushing to replace it. 

“Jesus, you scared me.” I huffed.

“Listen!” He hissed. 

We listened. Very, very faintly, there were footsteps, in the corridors outside his door. Getting louder.

“How the hell did you -”

I didn’t get a chance to fully voice my incredulity at his apparently super sonic hearing. He piloted me off him and rushed to fix himself, dithering momentarily between his pants and his shirt. When he zipped up his fly, I started to leave - he took hold of my arm and shook his head.

“Cara, they will know. You said you did not want this.” 

“I can probably slip out before…”

A knock that could rouse the dead at his door. Cursing, I complied, dropping down to sit in the hollow of his desk. I glared at him. What an ego boost. Cowering at his feet, half-fucked and stashed away. 

The knock rang out again and he croaked his greeting, pulling his gloves on hurriedly. As the door opened I motioned to his neck - at least three of his buttons were still undone - but it would seem there was no time, as his head snapped up and he smiled widely, not quite reaching his eyes.

“Sister Imperator.” He said, carefully, inching the chair forward. One of its wheels bumped me and I jumped, hitting my head on the bottom of the desk. He put his hands heavily on top of the wood in response, attempting to mask the sound. One hand rubbing the sting on my scalp, I fidgeted about in the cramped space to get my underwear into the right place and adjust my skirt. Then - just because I could - I ran my hand over his knee, smirking to myself when he fidgeted under my touch.

“Hello Papa. I’m very sorry to interrupt you at this time.”

At the sound of her voice all semblance of lingering arousal evaporated. I curled myself up and waited, staring at his shoes. His shoes were dumb. I had to tell him that. 

“Sister, any moment with you is a treat.” He had to have that line memorised. The English was too good. I poked at his calf a few times but he ignored me. 

“Oh, Papa, you old devil.” She laughed. I heard the creak of the leather of the chair opposite him. “Your… shirt?” 

“Warm.” He babbled back. “Very warm. Too warm. But now, okay. Good warm. Ha.” 

“I see… well, I’m afraid I have to talk to you about some of the senior Sisters, and the ghouls. I have an itinerary of complaints we can work through…” 

I death-gripped his leg. His knee began to bounce nervously. Dear Dark Lord in hell, do not make me sit here while she rambles on for who knows how long. 

“Ah, Sister, I’m afraid I don’t have much time at the moment -”

“It won’t take long. It seems every time I need to discuss these matters with you you always have another preoccupation.” Her voice was silky but the edge was there. It was hard not to groan. This idiot must have been putting this off for months. 

“Capsico - perhaps we can, ah, discuss this in a future time.” 

“Complain one, filed to me in July of this year…” 

I got comfortable. If I was going to be here for a while, I may as well get all the good gossip.

-

For the second time in the week, I was running through the library. Although it was quite dark, it was not quite night-time yet, and the sleepy dusk sky backlit the stained glass windows, casting long shadows from every bookcase. A few junior sisters were sitting here and there, and if one of them had the audacity to snicker at me as I jogged past I made sure to give them my best glare. 

Sister had rambled on for an eternity. I had heard his clock chime its deep, brassy tones twice. 

When she finally left and I could surface, Papa tried to speak but I shushed him each time. Then, he just looked at me sheepishly as I marched to the door, trying to hide the fact my legs were cramping from being in a crouched position for so long. I’d began my dash to the library, then got almost all the way there and realised I needed the damned textbook. What had started as a little late was now impolitely late. 

“What’re you going in there for?” A junior sister queried as I raced towards the far door. 

“Latin.” I grunted, wrenching it open.

“With him? Good luck.”

I needed it. In our previous brief meetings, the Cardinal seemed quite cold. Although I wasn’t keen on finding out how he reacted to lateness, I was definitely not about to find out what happened when he was stood up, either. 

I twisted the door handle for his office out of habit, caught myself, and then knocked quickly - three sharp raps. He opened it almost immediately, filling the door with red. 

“Cardinal, I’m so sorry I’m late. Sister Imperator was speaking.” 

Hardly a lie. His expression was unreadable. After a few moments of staring, he stepped aside and extended a hand, inviting me in. 

I noticed, as he closed the door behind me, that his office smelled of spices. Not the same kind of earthy incense that Papa had, but cooking spices - warm cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg. Books were now stacked up in little piles on every available surface. A large, tattered manuscript lay open on the desk, a steaming mug beside it.   
Despite the cosiness of his little office, the awkward tension was already beginning to stretch. At his silent command I perched myself on the chair opposite his desk and he sat down at his. 

Now we were here, with him regarding me with the same amount of panic as a man staring down the barrel of a gun, I was as lost for words as he was. I scanned over his desk briefly - some strange scratchings sprawled over the pages before him. The smell of spices was stronger now, billowing out from his mug alongside the steam. 

“Smells good.”

He just nodded. Beside him, standing on a small cabinet, was a familiar piece of silverware. I gestured at it.

“Is that a samovar?” 

It was obviously a samovar, but he still looked over at it like it was the first time he’d seen it and he nodded again, shoulders dropping the tiniest bit. 

“Would you… would you like some?” He said, quietly, as ever. 

“Please. It’s quite cold down here in the far reaches of the abbey.” I kept talking because if I didn’t, I would run out. “What kind is it?” 

He stood, retrieving the smaller teapot to pour me a tiny measure. The concentrate of tea filled the room with its wintry aroma. 

“Just…” He tailed off, slowly trickling the hot water from the samovar into my cup. “... winter spice.” 

I reached up to take it from him but he set it down on the desk before me, sitting down again. He watched me warily as I picked it up and blew along the top. 

“So. Latin.” I mused. The perfume of the tea was heady. I looked at him over the cascading steam. He cleared his throat and half-heartedly gestured at the parchment in front of him.

“Yes. But this is… very old.” 

“Like Papa Nihil?” 

That took him by surprise. I almost thought I saw a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. Hesitantly, he took the biretta from his head and set it aside, smoothing his hair down. 

“Maybe.” He murmured. A flush crept over his cheeks. I wanted to laugh. He was like a schoolboy. But I had him, now, somewhat - I didn’t want to scare him off.  
“I’m no good with Latin. I doubt I’d be able to even translate a single word of what you can do, Cardinal.” 

The blatant flattery granted me a deeper blush and he shrugged, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“I use… ah… books… to help me.” His eyes flashed to the one on my lap. 

“This one is great. Thank you for picking it out for me.” I smiled sweetly, taking a small sip of the tea. It was blisteringly hot and I fought not to cough.

He said nothing, picking up his pen. He bowed his head.

“I’m not sure I can help you, Sister.” He muttered. 

“Oh, please?” I set the cup down. “I’m really struggling, Cardinal. This is nothing like the other languages I’ve learnt. It’s so much more complicated. And hard.”   
“Languages…” He glanced up at me, pen hovering above his paper. 

“Yes. Italian is my best, other than English, of course. I learned it before I came to the abbey.” And it helped me get into bed with the highest authority in the abbey, too, but I wasn’t about to tell this blushing, stammering little man that. 

“I see.” He rose to his feet, leaning over to retrieve a book, which he then held out to me, eyes averted. I read the cover as I took it from him: a book about the role Latin plays in Italian. 

“It… it can help to use another language you know.” He clarified, still not looking at me. 

“Thank you.” 

“And I know that, uh, Papa Emeritus is a native.” He picked up his pen again. “Perhaps you could ask him.”

“What languages do you speak, Cardinal?” 

He didn’t even look up.

“A few.” 

“I heard you’re a Latin scholar. We have so many old texts just lying around here going to waste - I know Sister Imperator has been talking about having them handled for years.” I flipped through the new book as casually as I could. “Has she asked you about them?”

He gestured with his pen at the dusty tome on the desk. I saw his eyes dart up briefly at me. 

“What’s this one about? Do you know yet?” 

He laid the pen down with more force than I expected, eyes closing while he blew out a breath. 

“Forgive me, Sister.” He whispered.

Panicking, I gathered up my books for a speedy exit. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed me with such an intense, blazing look that I felt my own cheeks begin to burn.

“I am not… used to... company.”

His voice dropped to a growl to punctuate the last word. I shivered. I sat. I stayed, looking at him, for a long moment. His head was tilted slightly to one side, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. The brilliant white of his left eye contrasted with the dark around it and I could not stop looking at him, unease growing in the pit of my stomach. Licking his lips, he was the first to look away, inspecting the samovar.

I needed some fresh air. Urgently. When he looked away, I was no longer pinned to my seat and I jumped up, tucking the books under my arm and nodding quickly. 

“Thank you, Cardinal. I’m sorry if I was overbearing. I’m just so…” I forced a grin. “...excited to be learning Latin. I’ll have this book back to you in a few days.” 

He nodded once, clasping his hands together slowly. 

“Thank you again. Goodbye, Cardinal.”

“Copia.” He muttered, so quiet it took me a few hesitant seconds before I understood.

“Goodbye, Copia.” 

His eyes closed. I left, crashing through the library on shaking legs until I found a seat I could drop into. 

A junior sister popped her head around an aisle. 

“You okay, Sister?”

“Perfect.” I muttered. 

“You, uh…” She waved her hand at her front. I glanced down. Two of my shirt buttons were open. My bra was peeking out. 

I was going to kill that Italian bastard.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More awkwardness, more smut! The Sister is having a hard time processing her feelings so she takes it out on Papa.

It took me days to get the nerve to go back to him - and plenty of begging on Papa’s part, too. His first attempts to console me had went down like a lead balloon (‘Sister, why are you ashamed? Your chest is magnifico!’) but eventually, his pleading betrayed his desperation and I could see the sparks of genuine fear in his eyes when he spoke to me, in low tones, about secret meetings going on between Imperator and Nihil. He had relaxed somewhat when I told him about the Cardinal’s translation tasks, but was still worried. Begrudgingly, I agreed to go back. Just because I wanted to. Nothing to do with Papa, and the swell of happiness that shined on his face when I said so, or the fact he picked me up, crushing me to his chest and spun me, peppering my face in relieved kisses. 

My stomach flipped whenever I thought back on that. He had fucked me every which way I could imagine, and something as simple as his outburst at my consent had my pulse racing and a stupid smile on my face. Idiot. 

We both were, really. 

As I walked towards the library I realised I was actually a little curious to see him again. Despite his grand arrival barely anyone spoke of him. None of the other senior Sisters had been to see him for tutoring, either - and they were sure to make some very colourful accusations when they found out I had. He had melted into the shadows, not even making the effort to see Papa regularly as Imperator or Nihil did. I couldn’t say I was surprised. He didn’t strike me as the type who enjoyed company - in fact, hadn’t he told me that himself? 

And yet here I was, pulling open the door to his area, going to bother this shifty man once again for my Italian idiot. Barely through the door, I stopped dead. 

I wasn’t the only one there.

The Cardinal was already holding his office door open, just enough for his face to peek through. The water ghoul was waiting outside, tail curling around his leg, hands clasped behind his back. A look of trepidation was evident on the Cardinal’s face as he regarded the ghoul. It cleared when he caught sight of me, barely-masked surprise taking its place. 

“Your Eminence, I know I don’t do any Latin but I’ve heard such good things about you.” The ghoul gushed. “Are you sure you don’t even have ten minutes spare right now?” 

A blink. Silence.

“I’m sure you could find the time. I’d love to practice my oral skills.” He breathed.

The weight on the last two words was heavy enough even Nihil would have gotten it, but the Cardinal still looked somewhat bewildered. A flush crept over his cheeks when he glanced over at me again - the ghoul hadn’t noticed my arrival, too wound up in his doomed game of seduction. 

As if a switch had been flicked, the Cardinal’s brow creased and he opened the door wide enough for his body to block the entire frame.

“No.” 

The ghoul, visibly spooked by the movement, took a step back, pointed ears flattening in instinctive submission. I gripped my book tight.

“Wh-What?” 

“Cardinal, I’m just here to return your book.” I murmured. 

Eyes flickering over, he bowed his head at me in greeting. 

“Sister.” He muttered, stepping aside to make a small gap in the doorway. I wavered, hesitating, until his dark eyes flashed at me impatiently and I scooted on in, having to graze past his body as I did so. When I turned, the ghoul was gawping. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any time?” He sneered.

“Sister had an appointment.” 

He closed the door in the ghoul’s face.

He turned to me, and after a few seconds of me staring at him in shock I finally remembered to offer him the book. I held it out to him.

“Thank you for seeing me, Cardinal.” I muttered. 

He plucked the book from my hand and laid it onto a pile, moving to sit at his desk, fixing me with the same serious stare he always did. I took my cue and sat in the chair opposite him. 

He was wearing all black today, and I had never seen it before. It was a little strange. I would have thought seeing him in full vestments would have been more intimidating, but right now I could feel my pulse fluttering in my neck. I gave him a smile, and some of the hardness faded from his brow. 

“Forgive me, Sister.” He whispered, barely above a sigh. “He will not leave me alone.” 

“I liked the book.” It was all I could manage. I was staring at his gloved hands, resting on his lap.

He nodded, and I tore my eyes away to look at his face. 

“I also came to apologise.” I swallowed, picking at the hem of my habit. I sure as shit wasn’t wearing a shirt today. He looked confused. I swept my hair from my forehead and cleared my throat.

“I… uh… I didn’t know… my shirt… last time…” 

“Ah. I see.” 

He blushed so /quickly/. Within a few seconds his entire face was crimson, and it was his turn to look away. 

“Did you finish the old Latin… thing?” I pressed, my voice wavering. God. Why did I agree to do this again? 

He looked exasperated and I huffed, rubbing the sweat beading on the nape of my neck.

“Sister.” His voice low, he looked at me again. “Why do you come here?”

I studied him. He did not seem pissed off, or upset. It was a genuine question. He watched me, nervously pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“I want to talk to you.” I muttered. It was the best I could do. He nodded once, then closed his eyes. 

“Sister… I…” 

His hands skimmed up his legs until they reached his knees, tugging at the material there. I stared. Holy shit. How had I not realised how big his thighs were? When I finally looked up I realised he had been watching me gawp, the whole time, and a hideous, embarrassing flush crawled over my entire skin. I began to gnaw on my thumb, unable to look at him.

“I’m not sure what you want from me.” He continued, as quiet as ever. “I… I doubt I could help you.”

A part of me wanted to melt into the floor. Another part of me wanted to run to the door, wrench it open, and bolt from the abbey and join an actual convent to live the rest of my days in. 

And a small, confusing, hidden part of me, threatening to bubble up and act, was magnetised by him. He had such a strange energy, but it emanated from him in dark waves, a pulse that found its way under my skin and made it hard to breathe. I got to my feet, steadying myself on his desk, and he looked up at me expectantly. 

It was then I noticed the book, open, on his desk. The Abbey handbook for clergyman. I had seen it in Papa’s office many times, and even leafed through it once or twice while waiting for him to finish some work.

He had been reading the section about permitted clerical relations with Sisters.

I needed to leave. My legs wouldn’t let me. I wobbled, and he shot up from his chair, leaning over steady me. I took a step back before he could touch me, gripping blindly for my Grucifix just so I had something to hold on to.

“Sister?” He whispered. 

“Copia.” 

I hadn’t even realised I’d said it until I saw his reaction. He look stunned. After a second, he shifted his weight from the desk, threatening to come over to me. 

I didn’t want him to, did I?

He made the decision for us, wrenching himself away to look out of the window. 

“You need to go.” 

I didn’t need to be told twice.

-

Outside his office, I exited hastily into the library, ducking into a random aisle to gather myself. I was sweating. I was breathing hard. And, worst of all, I was fucking wet. I glanced at my watch (having long since memorised Papa’s routine) and beelined for the door. I was so het up I sincerely hoped I didn’t see anyone on the way to his quarters, because any consenting adult crossing my path at this moment, be it ghoul or senior Sister would be getting the time of their life from -

“Seestor!” 

No. Please, no.

But it was. Papa Nihil, creaking his way down the corridor towards me. I was still a hot, sweaty mess but he was so ancient it was as if his dustiness was leeching the moisture from me. He beamed at me the whole two minutes it took him to shuffle down. 

“Hello, Papa Nihil.” I forced a grin. “Are you well?”

“Always, seestor.” He tried a wink. “Doing some studying, hm?”

“Y-yeah, sure. Sorry, Papa, but I need to go see Papa - uh, Emeritus, that is, not you.” I babbled, laughing for the sake of laughing. He just smiled at me with that same blankish expression until I was done. 

“What studies, hm?” 

The fuckin’ Kama Sutra. I let loose another tirade for him to smile at, squeezing my thighs together tightly to try and stop the throb between my legs. This, I decided, was definitive proof that God wasn’t real, or if he was, he was an asshole. Nihil nodded along, creeping closer to squeeze my shoulder.   
“You look feverish, seestor. Don’t work too hard, yes?” 

“Of course, Papa.” I was about to leave. He began to struggle with the door. Swallowing an irritated sigh I stood and held it open for him for several minutes as he crept through, stopping every so often to regale me with another little story about something or other he’d seen in the abbey, or some old story from his dancing days. I smiled. I nodded. And when the door finally closed behind him, I bolted.

-

“Dark Lord below, cara, you are eager.” 

“Fuck me.” I groaned, climbing astride him. “Fuck me. Now.” 

“What’s gotten inside you?” Papa chuckled, running his hands slowly up my thighs. I quickly shelled my habit and bra in a single, violent tug, grabbed his hands and pressed them onto my chest.

“You, hopefully soon.” I grunted, leaning down to kiss him. His shirt was open but not off - I slid my hands over his chest, my nose bumping over his when I carelessly tried to deepen the kiss. He snorted and pulled aside for air, his hands tracing onto my waist, ever the tease. Impatiently, I snatched them back up, glaring down at him.  
“Ah.” His pupils were blown as he stared up at me, breathing quickly. “Vedo.” 

With that, he began to massage my breasts, his thumbs circling over my nipples. I arched into his touch, groaning, fumbling with his fly. He sat up to kiss me again; tongue sweeping into my mouth, teeth grazing over my bottom lip. His mouth travelled down my jaw to my neck, nipping at the flesh at the junction of my shoulder. It was by far too much. His stupid fly wouldn’t open properly - I blew my hair from my forehead and tried again, tugging at it, but it refused to cooperate. Frustrated beyond belief, I actually felt tears prickling in my eyes.

“Your stupid fucking pants.” I hissed, and he was wise not to burst out laughing, though I felt it rumble in his chest. 

“Let me.” He hushed, gently moving me off him. While he saw to his fly, I had my underwear off in a nanosecond, and he had barely got his cock free when I was already back on top of him, kissing any part of his face I could, the taste of paint permeating my tongue. 

“Like this.” I pressed my palms into his chest so he laid back down, eyes glinting. 

“Yes, like that.” I whispered, reaching down to take his dick in my hand. It was hot, and unbelievably hard. His breathing was ragged. If I hadn’t been in such a state, I would have teased him for being so turned on by me taking control of his body like this. I stroked it, rising up onto my knees to slide it against myself. I was so wet he was slick in seconds, and then I finally, finally pushed him inside me. 

The slight stretch burned so deliciously I threw my head back and moaned. Regular me was perched in the back of my brain, cursing myself for acting like such a wanton slut and no doubt giving Papa enough teasing fuel for the next eon, but present me did not care at all. I planted my hands onto his chest and rocked my hips, the friction feeling so good the tears were threatening again. After a few stunned seconds of me fucking myself onto him, Papa snapped out of it and grabbed the meat of my waist, tight enough to bruise, and guided my rocking to meet the thrusts of his hips. I buckled forward, panting already, and he took the chance to press a scorching kiss to my lips, his tongue in my mouth. He pressed the small of my back flat against him, and slammed his hips up - directly into the spot that made my toes curl. His lips moved to my throat so he could hear my indecent moans build. When the orgasm finally tore through my I collapsed against him with a sob, raking my hand into his hair and gripping tight as I rode it out.

“Again.”

He wasn’t asking. Boneless, I flopped onto my back and he positioned himself over me, pushing my legs over his shoulders so he could fuck me as deeply as he could. The coil was already beginning to tighten again. His face fell into my neck, his hot, uneven breathing rasping on my skin, muttering incoherently.

I slid my hand down and touched where we joined, and his pace faltered for a second so he could catch my lips against his and kiss me again. His hand brushed mine away and he began rubbing the hot bundle of nerves exactly how I needed him to, fast and precise, his kiss stealing the breath from my lungs, the pleasure building and building as I writhed underneath him, my hands under his shirt to rake at his back, and when it finally exploded he remained relentless, fucking me through it until I saw stars and I had to twist my face away to get oxygen into my starved lungs, eyes screwed shut. Burying himself inside of me, I felt him come too, his hips pinning me in place until he was done. He pushed his face into my neck and I reached up shakily to stroke my hand over his hair, then down his neck and onto the sweat-soaked shirt which I gripped gently in my fist. We caught our breath as it all started to fade, him still on top of me, me still holding onto him for dear life. 

When I opened my eyes, I looked down at my hand on his back, and for a few bewildering seconds, I found myself wondering why the shirt was not black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who messaged me on tumblr.hell over this fic! Please, feel free to message me, suggest things - for instance, a name for our water ghoul? Also, expect much more Copia thigh ogling. The Sister is a woman after my own heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!! Uploading early because it's Christmas, why not (if you don't celebrate Christmas, that's cool too!). This chapter, some Papa fluff/smut and then Sister finally acts on her feelings.

Half asleep, my hand slid over the tangle of the black silk sheets, searching for him; he was gone. Grumbling, I wrapped the sheets that would have covered him around myself instead, turning onto my other side and nuzzling against the thick, soft pillow. It smelt of him, and I couldn’t resist pulling it down so I could press my cheek into it, sighing. I cracked open an eyelid. The clock on his bedside table told me it was too early to wake, but too late to fall back asleep. Ah well. I didn’t like morning lessons anyway. 

Behind me, a door closed with a quiet click, and there was a tut. I felt the bed dip, and a warm hand caressing over my side.

“Good morning, mia amore.” Papa whispered, and I buried my face in the pillow in response. His gentle touch turned out to be an effort to try and get the sheets back. I held tight and he tutted again.

“Cara, per favore. It’s cold.” 

“I know. You were keeping me warm. And then you got up and made me freeze and wake up. Your loss.”

“I remember why you go to your own bed now.” He huffed, and I shrugged.

“I tell you every time, you don’t want to share a bed with me. And every time you say you want to. And now you’re bitching. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

A shift in weight. The sheets slid rapidly off me, but before I could protest he was flat against my back, his body pressed so perfectly against me like it was made to fit there. With a final re-positioning of the sheets on us, he tangled his legs into my own and kissed the nape of my neck, hands sliding to cuddle me.

Papa was always a little warmer than everyone else. I didn’t know if it had something to do with his status in the church (or if his blood just ran hotter than most people’s - that would explain his copious flirting, too), but it was like having a personal radiator on these cold, stormy mornings. I really had to start staying the full night in his bed. I had to admit; this was nice.

“I have to get up in an hour.” He muttered, mournfully, into my skin. 

“No, stay here. Call in sick.” 

That earned a chuckle. 

“How do you, ah, call sick when you live where you work?” 

“I dunno. You’re Papa. You can do whatever you want.” 

“You have lessons, no?”

“Fuck ‘em.” I muttered succinctly. I rolled and pressed my cheek into his hot chest, hearing the thump-thump-thump of his heart. 

Papa stayed quiet, then, his hands sliding over my back and pulling me into him, the beat of his heart growing ever so slightly faster. I could feel him looking at me.

“Stop staring at me.” 

“No. Sei bella.” Then, after a few seconds: “Cara mia, I don’t like, um, asking this, ah…”

My spine tensed. I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Have you -”

“If you say a single thing about that bloody Cardinal I swear -”

I opened my eyes to exact my fury on him in the form of a blood-curdling glare but was immediately stricken by his face. I pulled away, staring at him. He frowned.

“What?” 

The paint was gone. It was so bizarre to see him without it. The entire time I had known him - non-intimately as well as intimately - he had sported the same face paint day in, day out, till all hours of the morning. It actually shocked me to see his bare skin; like I was being crushed against the chest of a stranger. My cheeks burned, and so did his. 

“What?” He repeated, more indignant, starting to pull away. I caught the back of his neck and pulled him back to me, unable to stop a giggle. 

“Nothing! I’m sorry. I haven’t… you washed it off?”

“Yes.” Without the paint I could see every line, every small imperfection on his face. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled, clearly amused.

“Every day, the same. Take it off. Put it on.” His hand moved to gently touch my chin, brushing his thumb over it while I studied his face intently. “But you are not here to see, obviously.” 

“But others?” My teeth clenched. “Others who share your bed see it. Obviously.” 

“No one else in this bed, cara mia. Just you.” He chuckled. 

I couldn’t resist cupping his jaw in my hands and pressing two rather disgustingly fond kisses onto each of his cheeks. There was no sting of paint on my tongue, just the taste of his facewash, and the mint of toothpaste when I gently kissed his lips. 

“Unless you are thinking I should take other people into -” 

“Don’t ruin it, idiot.” I scoffed, and he laughed, squeezing me into him, shaking me with the power of his voice. 

“What was it we talk about?” He muttered a few low sentences in Italian, and then continued. “Ah! Cara, this Cardinal -”

“Papa.” I groaned. “Stop.”

“You see him?” 

“I’m definitely thinking you have a thing for him. Why else would you bring him up during such intimate moments between us?” It was hard not to snap. I knew from experience that having had his feelings hurt, Papa could sulk for /days/, and I wasn’t about to lose my human electric blanket right now when I could see the condensation beading on the windows of his room. 

“I don’t like to ask.” He murmured. “But… I worry.” 

“I get the feeling that he doesn’t want to see me anymore, Papa.” I shrugged, tracing a small circle with the tip of my finger into his shoulder. His eyebrow lifted.

“Oh? Why this feeling?”

“I mean, just an inkling. From when he told me to get out of his office the last time I went there a few days ago.” 

Papa’s eyes narrowed.

“He was rude to you, cara?”

“Not quite. I don’t know if he has the nerve to be rude.” Was that true, though? I remembered the look of pure shock on the ghoul’s face as the Cardinal closed the door on him. And then he had turned to me, and looked at me with his intense dark eyes, and just reliving the memory made me want to hide. I groaned and ducked my face back into Papa’s chest, my cheek tickled by the smattering of chest hair there. 

“Vedo. And he has said to you nothing?” 

“Mm-hm. I don’t like going. The atmosphere is all… weird. I don’t know what he wants from me.” 

“You could find out.” He muttered, and I shook my head.

“Not sure I’d want to find out.” 

He considered this, his hand skimming over my back.

“He was pretty rude to a ghoul.” I said, hoping he would take the bait and move the conversation along. He titled my face up to look at him and I took that as my invitation, continuing my story while he stroked his thumb rhythmically over my cheekbone. 

“There was a water ghoul there, trying to get into his office, when I turned up. And he shut the door in the poor thing’s face.” 

After a few strokes of his thumb my skin was beginning to tingle. My eyelids drooped, lulled by the soothing motion.

“Why was this ghoul there?” 

“A quickie, I believe.” I giggled, but Papa didn’t laugh. He hummed his understanding, thumb trailing to my jaw. 

“Vedo. With this Cardinal?” 

At my nod his eyes drifted away as he considered. 

“He is finding the Cardinal attractive, heh?”

“This is a weird conversation.” 

“I think you will go to him again.”

“He told me to leave, Papa.” 

“So?” His thumb swept over my lower lip. All it took was that one stupid little action for a flash of electricity to spark in my core and I melted against him, gripping him a little tighter. 

“So if I turn up again, I don’t want to know what will happen. What he will… do to me.” 

The thoughts that came along with that sentence were hurriedly being stuffed back down in the Pandora’s box deep inside of me. Thumb on my chin, he tilted my face up to press a hot, brief kiss onto my lips.

“I think you will go anyway.” He muttered. Then he was moving me onto my back, so slowly it wasn’t until he was lying over me that I even noticed. 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” I insisted, breathless, trying not to squirm when his tongue traced over my neck. He knew every single place to touch and kiss to make me putty in his hands, and it looked like he was going to use it to get his way. Asshole. 

“Mia amore, you must.” He breathed, running his hands down my sides, gripping my thighs, moving them around his hips as he continued to lower himself. 

“Papa, really, believe me -”

His tongue swirled over my nipple, followed by the sharp graze of teeth. I groaned, reaching to slide my fingers into his hair - but he grasped my hands and pinned them down, looking up at me as he continued his slow torment of my body. I wriggled underneath him. His lips travelled further, pausing at my navel, then drifted over the jut of my hip bone and up my thigh.

“You must.” He whispered, abandoning my hands so his own were free to skim up the backs of my thighs. He was sitting up a little now, head tilted to one side, watching me as he gradually pushed them further apart, and back. I dropped my arm over my face.

“Cara?”

“Papa, please.” 

“You will go, cara?”   
I raked my hands over my eyes, moaning. He rubbed his cheek against my knee and then, agonisingly slowly, began to press kiss after kiss down my thigh. He stopped to ask again, his mouth so fucking close I felt his breath hot against the already over-heated flesh between my legs. Whimpering, I tried to push on his head but he simply sat up again, watching, waiting.

“How long are you dragging this on for?” I hissed. “You said you had to get up soon.” 

He shrugged, lazily dragging his fingers over my stomach, my hips, my thighs. 

“Patience is a virtue.” Oh, I was about ready to whack that smug smirk off his face. “I have no rush to leave. Would it not be fun, mia amore, for me to just…” He leaned back down and teased his mouth down my thigh again, even going so far as to lavish a suckling kiss at the point where my thigh met my hip, before pulling up again. 

“... to just do this, over and over? Ah, vero - I will like this. Let’s do it all day, yes?” 

This time, when his lips ghosted over the hot, wet flesh I so desperately needed him to touch, something inside me snapped. I knew I wasn’t going to win. He had an iron will that I wanted to beat him with. Groaning, knuckling my eyes, I finally nodded.

“Yes, whatever, Papa - I’ll go, I’ll fucking go.”

He grinned up at me.

“Vero? Yes?”

“Yes.” I snapped, then groaned, reaching down to run my thumb over his lips. His tongue peeped out, wetting the pad of my thumb, smearing his spit over his mouth.

“Just - just one thing, Papa.” I whispered. He smiled, resting his cheek against my thigh, waiting. 

“Make this good. Make it so fucking good I won’t want it for another week.” I pleaded; I was going to need it. His smile twisted into a smirk, and he shrugged.

“Come puoi aspettarti di meno, ghuleh?” 

-

The closer I got to the door the more my stomach churned. My resolution to go through with this for Papa’s sake rapidly faded, my fist trembling when I raised it to knock on the office door. I felt like I was willingly going into a lion’s den. Shuffling from foot to foot, I drew a shaky breath and gathered my nerve. 

Three raps. I waited, unconsciously bringing my hand from the door to my face to chew on my thumb, catching myself, dropping it back to my side. I heard movement inside.

I stepped back as the door cracked open. His office was strangely badly-lit, and the sweet smell of ritual incense began to creep out into the corridor. His face fell when he saw me.

“Evening, Cardinal.” I braved a smile that he did not return. 

“Sister.” He returned. Bathed in shadows, his dark eyes seemed like black pits, his one wicked white eye gleaming out at me. He was not wearing the robes: opting instead for the tight black ensemble from when I had last seen him. His eye travelled over me; he leaned one hand onto the door frame as if he were afraid I was going to barge in.

“What?” He uttered, sharply, witheringly. I threaded my fingers together, licking my lips. 

“I missed you.” 

It wasn’t a lie, but it shocked us both. Gloved fingers curling around the frame, he considered my statement, staring at his feet. Though I expected embarrassment to seize me, my body tingled with anticipation instead. I held my breath, my eyes searching him for a response. 

Slowly, like he was second guessing each motion, he peeled himself from the door and disappeared a little ways inside, his eyes glinting in the din. I slipped inside, resting myself against the door when I closed it quietly behind me. 

Candles illuminated the space, dripping hot, black wax over platters that served as makeshift holders. The sweet, cloying smell of incense came from three cones burning in a ceramic sculpture, the smoke pouring down from them and into a dish like a waterfall. On his desk, I saw a glass, a snifter of brandy inside. 

He stood before me, just looking at me like he always did. After a few seconds he paced over to his desk but stayed standing, probably expecting me to sit down before he did.

Away from him, away from his pull. That’s where I wanted to stay. I chose to seat myself at the long bench running against the wall, arranging my skirts over my legs before sliding a hand up myself to fiddle with the Grucifix. 

Silently, he watched me. I looked down at my lap. 

“Sister.” He began, then pausing, selecting his words carefully. “I… appreciate… your company. But…” 

I gripped my knees. The sound of his voice had my pulse beating in my head. 

“Perhaps…”

I stole a glance. He was bracing himself against the desk. Using it to keep himself away from me. He raised a hand to articulate, unfurling his fingers. When the words didn’t come he snapped it into a fist, frowning. In a flash he snatched up the snifter and downed it in one, banging it quite forcefully back onto the desk. He did not raise his head.

“Perhaps I misconstrue your intentions of coming here, Sister.” He muttered. “If I do, please, forgive me. But I am not… interested.” 

His voice lifted on the last word, up instead of down in a firm statement. He still had not looked up. I swallowed. Christ, it was warm in here. The sweat was making my habit stick to my back. 

“Me neither.” I breathed, to which he looked up, and I melted again. That tiny part of me that was drawn to him - a doomed moth to a burning flame - was back, rising, bubbling, consuming. 

“Right.” 

“Yeah.” 

I stared straight ahead. In the edge of my periphery, his silhouette wavered, then shifted. I screwed my eyes shut. 

He sat beside me.

So close I could feel the heat coming off him.

He smelt of leather, and musk. I drew a few shaky breaths through my mouth, as quietly as I could, actually feeling myself shaking like a scared little girl. What the hell was he playing at? He’d never been this close to me, and when I dared steal a glance at him he was resolutely looking the other way, pretty much pretending I wasn’t there. So what was his game? 

The gloved hands in his lap were slowly beginning to curl. I could hear the rasp of his breathing as he sat, still as a statue. I looked at him again, his profile bathed in the candlelight, and was reminded of when I saw him like this that night in the library. He caught my eye and then ducked his head, blushing, scrubbing at his face in vain to take the flush away.

It was then I realised why he had sat there. It was a test. That was failing, horrifically, because I hadn’t even noticed it but my thigh was pressing up against his; he, or I, had closed the gap between us, somehow, and now it was taking everything for me not to simply tilt my head and rest it on his shoulder. My feet jittered. I fisted the fabric of my habit, heart racing a mile a minute. The tiny part inside of me was no longer tiny. It consumed me, completely; a realisation that smashed any false pretences I had and began booming in my head. 

I wanted this man. 

This time, when he felt my eyes on him again, he returned my gaze, his eyes searching my own. One of us was trembling. I imagined him closing the gap and kissing me. I wondered how it would feel. All I had to do to find out was loop my arm around his neck, and pull him down, and press his lips onto mine… 

He breathed in sharply and began to rise. Panicking, I pressed my hand onto his thigh, trying to keep him seated; which he did, staring down at my hand, which was now running down towards his knee, then back up, marvelling. 

“Copia.” I whispered, twisting so I was facing him, pressing my weight into the hand in his lap as I leaned over to him. His thigh was hard and tense under my grip. I leaned closer, ghosting my lips over his cheek, towards the corner of his mouth. When I whispered his name again, his throat contracted violently, his breathing hot and ragged on my face. 

I brushed my lips over his; a barely-there kiss, a prayer for more. He moaned quietly, low in his throat, eyes closing gently.

And then his eyes were open, so steely I pulled back in horror. 

Grabbing my wrist, he snatched my hand from his leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love a cliffhanger? See you next week! 
> 
> (by the way, the final sentence Papa says is basically 'how can you expect anything less?'. saved you a trip to google translate ;) )


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

God himself could not have instilled the same amount of fear that spiked my being in that moment. The grip on my forearm was vice-like, his eyes blazing under a heavy frown that had me shrinking away. He watched me flinch, and he set his jaw, exhaling sharply in a humourless laugh. 

“Might I suggest,” Copia whispered, voice low and mild despite the hard edge that singed the words, “that you don’t raise a man’s hopes only to shy away from his touch?”  
With that, he released my arm, turning so as not to look at me. Despite the dark, I could see the embarrassment blazing red on his face. My heart fluttered and I laughed, somewhat hysterically, trying to catch my breath, panicking again when his head began to dip lower on his chest.

“Oh, you idiot.” I giggled, my voice reedy. I risked resting my hand on his shoulder; he did not react. I slid it over his neck and onto his cheek. His eyes closed.

“I want you to kiss me.” I muttered, stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. He moved into my touch, breathing harder, and when he turned his mouth grazed over my palm. The scratch of his moustache against my skin sent a strange little thrill into my gut. 

Hesitating, he moved closer, studying me as the distance closed to gauge my reaction. I wondered if he could hear how hard my heart was beating: it seemed to be hammering away at my ribcage. Parting my lips, I looked up at him, holding my breath. He paused just shy of my face, hooded eyes still searching me. Just from having him this close, drug-like arousal coursed through my system. My limbs heavy, my breathing hoarse, I stared at his lips and willed him: kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. 

With unexpected gentleness, he pressed his lips to my cheek. A quiet ‘oh’ slipped from me - but I wasn’t disappointed; the feeling of his hot mouth on my skin was indescribably divine. Such a simple, sweet gesture, and I was melting into the floor, the pulse between my legs rivalling the angry, desperate throb of my heart.  
He lingered, the tip of his nose tracing over the side of my face; my eyes rolled as his lips touched my neck. 

“God.” I groaned. His hair soft in my hand, I pulled him closer. I felt the faintest rasp of his tongue and he moved away quickly. I could feel the heat on his cheeks when I cupped his face with my other hand. 

“Forgive me, Sister.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

I kissed him, and it was instantly not enough; I brushed my tongue between his lips until his own came to move it. Pressing closer, I deepened our contact, head spinning as I breathed him in, my heart sputtering when he moaned quietly. He tried to reach for me but our positioning on the bench was awkward; I stood up, not breaking the kiss, trying to climb him, sit on him, do anything I could to be pressed as close to him as possible. My legs shook when I stood and, stumbling, I broke away with a gasp. He immediately pulled me back to him; I ended up straddling his thigh. When I kissed him again, the last thing I saw was the shock and wonderment in his eyes. 

Arms around his neck, his leg under me, his body pushed desperately against mine, his kisses grew desperate and hungry, the scratch of his moustache razing against my lips as he hurriedly moved his mouth over my neck again, panting. His thigh was hard and pressed directly against where I needed to be touched the most; I hitched my skirts up around my waist and began grinding into his leg, whimpering my pleasure into the dark.

The leather of his gloves slipped over my skin; he gripped my hips as I rocked, tugging me into him. My thigh rubbed into his crotch and I could feel how hard he was.  
“Copia.” I hissed, my fingers tight in his hair. “When are you going to fuck me?” 

With a groan, he pressed his face into my neck. I couldn’t resist reaching down to feel his cock, huffing excitedly at the thickness. His body was tense against me, straining. I gripped him through his pants and stroked lightly along his length, grinding more forcefully onto his thigh as I gauged his size. I was right; it was unnecessarily big. Heart pumping, my mind began to race with the possibility of tugging my underwear to one side and getting fucked by him like this, pinned into his lap. I imagined he would be ruthless, fucking all this tension into me until he burst. I wanted to not be able to walk. 

Just the thought of it was enough to tip me over the edge - I clung to his shoulders and rode his thigh until it was over. It was good, but not enough. I needed so much more from him; I wanted to feel as much of his bare flesh against my own as possible. He pulled away, and when I opened my eyes, he was staring at me. 

“Sister… did you just…?” 

It was my turn to blush. I nodded curtly, dissolving into giggles. Lucifer below, the look on his face - his hair was messed from my heavy petting, his skin crimson down to his neck and he was looking at me with the same amount of astonishment as a man who’d witnessed an alien descend from the cosmos. He blinked.

“With… with me?” He whispered, incredulous. 

“Yeah? Why does that shock you?” I crossed my arms around his neck but he averted his eyes, trying to compose himself. 

“Copia? Are you okay?” 

He nodded slowly, then cleared his throat. 

“Overwhelming.” It was all he could manage; he could barely get it out as it was. He ducked his head and I kissed his forehead, unable to resist cuddling him into my chest. It was only then it struck me how hot and hard his body still was against me, the bulge of his cock pressing onto my inner thigh.

“Shall I help you with that?” I whispered, trailing my fingers down his front. He watched my hand, face contracting in evident turmoil before he shook his head slightly. 

I paused.

“Oh.” 

And just like that, the strange awkwardness began to bloom. Unceremoniously, I clambered off his leg and straightened my skirts, still a little weak at the knees. His head was down so I could not see his face. 

“Thank you, Sister.” He muttered. My skin flushed as confusion swept over me. Just minutes ago he was pulling me so desperately into himself I’m sure I would be finding the bruises for days, and now he was too overcome to even look at me. 

He needed his space, that much was obvious. And I needed a cold shower. After wavering for a second, I headed for the door. 

A final glance back at him; his head was in his hands. 

-

My night was restless. Though it hadn’t rained for a while the temperature still dropped below freezing at dusk, and my sorry little dorm in an ancient stone abbey would turn into an icebox. Forced to hug myself under thick covers, it wasn’t long before I was thinking of him - of his fervent, urgent kisses, of his barely-contained desire betrayed by how tightly he clutched me - and turning to bury my face in my pillow. I would touch myself at the thought, eyes wrenched closed and moans muffled by down, bringing myself so close as I relived the memory of kissing him, touching him… and then I would remember his refusal, the burning hurt and shame that had nearly swept me from my feet, and the confusion that made me sick to my stomach. I was stuck in some sort of horrific limbo; unshakeable want gnawed at me, slowly but surely, yet any sort of relief slipped through my fingers like water into sand. 

Then - just as the beginning dregs of sleep were beginning to take hold - the thought of Papa briefly crossed my mind and I was suddenly a wreck for a different reason entirely. 

I had always assumed that Papa had others - it wasn’t like he had any shortage of offers. But he had told me, hadn’t he - that I was the only one in his bed? It was a weird feeling. I could have laughed out loud at the thought of calling him a boyfriend or anything of the sort, but did that mean we were exclusive? What the hell did that mean? And if we were (or if he was simply expecting me not to go bed-hopping like several other Sisters were prone to do), then that meant my most recent visit to the Cardinal was…? 

It wasn’t like we’d fucked. It was just a kiss. A few kisses. And some serious heavy petting. But, I reasoned, it was all in the process of what Papa had asked me to do. Or something. Maybe if he asked, I could casually mention something about doing something to sweeten the deal and get more information.

I flopped onto my back and sighed heavily.

Like he’d buy that. 

-

I was still awake when the first rays of sunshine filtered through my curtains. An answer had not presented itself to me in the many hours I had lay there, worrying. Instead, I had made up my mind on a plan.

A stupid plan, but it was something. 

Flaying my own flesh would have been preferable to getting out of my warm bed and skulking through the freezing corridors of the abbey, but it was a necessary evil. The thin dressing gown did very little to stop the cold from seeping its way into my skeleton, and every breath I exhaled puffed out a small cloud as I navigated my way through the sleeping building. 

I stopped outside his chamber door to knock quietly, in our pattern so he would know it was me. Teeth chattering, I slipped inside; he was already at his bedroom door in his pyjama pants and smeared face paint, squinting over at me while I hurried over.

“Cara mia?”

“I need to talk to you, Papa.” I stood before him, drawing the robe around myself tightly. With fondness in his sleepy eyes, he brushed his knuckles over my cheek, then gasped.

“Mia amore, hai freddissimo.” Papa tutted, piloting me by the wrist over to his bed despite my protests. He had me sit down beside him and then wrapped the sheets around me, planting a kiss on my head in satisfaction. 

I had really wanted this to be a done in one sort of deal, where I would say what I needed to say and then shuffle back to my dorm but I was already curling my feet up and holding him tight, sighing as his unnatural heat began to warm my skin. 

“Why are you here, cara?” He trailed a finger along my jaw to tilt my head up. “I don’t complain, chiaramente.” 

Now I was here, held against him, being stared at like I was the most beloved being he’d ever seen, the original plan to be truthful to him evaporated completely. Papa waited, eyebrow raising, and I swallowed.

“It’s hard to explain.” I mumbled, shifting about a bit. 

His eyes flashed to the clock and he shrugged. 

“Explain to me as I go.” 

“Go where - wait! -” 

With absolutely no warning, the bastard scooped me up, sheets and all - prompting a very unsavoury noise to come warbling out of my mouth. He carried me to the other side of the room and set me on my feet, opening the door to the bathroom and disappearing inside. I heard the roar of the shower and he appeared again, smiling.  
“Papa, I know you have to get ready but I do need to talk to you.” 

“Vedo. Well, mia amore, you can tell me this from out here. Ah…” He gestured at the shower, the steam already starting to cloud inside the glass. “But it is loud, yes? I doubt I would hear. Cara, I think you will join me instead?” 

“Jesus Christ.” I groaned. “I didn’t come down here for a quick morning screw. I actually really do have something I need to tell you about.” 

“Okay. No screw.” He winked. “But come?” 

The heat of the bathroom was on my face, the cold of his bedroom on my back. Quickly, I threw off his sheets and dove inside, closing the door and already beginning to work off my gown and pyjamas. Papa stood and watched, and I made sure to glare at him.

“What? You’ve seen it all before.” I scoffed, taking the hair tie from my wrist to secure up my hair. 

Sei bella.” He sighed, and then slid open the glass panel. “Ladies firstly.”

“First.” I corrected, sidling into the awesome cascade of his waterfall shower. He kicked off his pants and then joined me, sealing the glass back up.

I was determined not to get my hair wet, however the heat of the shower was heavenly on my frozen skin - I stood with my back under the water, as much of my body under it as I could manage. It felt like the cold had actually seared into my bones, and now the hot water was reaching inside and gently pulling it out. Papa ran his hand over my shoulder and then grabbed some soap.

“I went to go see the Cardinal again.” I began. He paused, mid-way through lathering the suds into his hands.

“Vero?”

“Yeah. I’m not finding anything out. Frankly, Papa, I think if you’re concerned about information, you should just ask Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator yourself.” 

Slowly, he lowered his face into his hands and rubbed carefully. The moments ticked by, my statement heavy in the air. He ducked his head under the stream and rubbed the paint from his face before turning to me again, slicking his hair back.

“Okay.” His accent dragged on the last syllable like it always did. “You are stressed.”

“Very. I’m telling you, Papa. If I go back to him, something will happen.”

He tipped his head to one side.

“What, cara mia?” 

“Something.” I fixed him with my most pointed look, hoping he would understand me. As if reading my mind, he nodded slowly.

“There are times when… ah… things must be done.” His hand grazed over my face. “If you do not wish to do these things, I understand. You have told me this.”

“Okay.” I pressed my hand over his. “But what if I do, and I’m right? What if I go back, and /something/ happens?”

His eyes searched mine. The water beat down on him, trickling over his face. I reached up to wipe a forgotten spot of paint from his jaw. 

“What is this saying…” He muttered, sighing. “Il fine giustifica i mezzi.” 

“The end justifies the means.” 

He leaned down to kiss the bridge of my nose. 

“Tell me if you go to him again.” He whispered, hands running up to hold my face. 

“Yes.” I breathed, watching his pupils widen, the dart of his tongue over his lips.

“Tell me it all.” Papa pressed, his face hovering so close all I could see was his eyes.

At my nod, he kissed me with more intensity than I had expected. I jumped when my back hit the cold tiles but he ignored it, his lips at my throat. Trapped between us, I felt his cock, half-hard against my hip. I moved my hand down to palm at it. He chuckled, pressing himself closer. 

“You said…?” 

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “You got me naked, already.”

He was getting harder already; I grasped the base of his cock and smirked.

“Besides, it will only take a few minutes.” 

“Monella.” He hissed, crashing his lips into mine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always think Papa would use more Italian in the morning as that's his native language and he's tired. I also think that he may be harbouring some *thoughts* about the Cardinal, and is extremely interested in knowing what the Sister thinks of him too. 
> 
> I'm going to try and update every Friday from now on! Thank you for reading and as always, let me know what you think in the comments pls c:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister finally gets some. 
> 
> SMUT. BIG SMUT.

No one came to the door. 

I knocked again, and listened. It was silent inside his office; no signs of movement. With a sigh, I turned away.

There was a slit of light under the door opposite his office, a little ways down the tiny corridor. As I approached it I noticed it was ajar, resting on the frame. 

A little buzz trickled down my spine. Licking my lips, I gently eased it open, peeking around the wood.

His quarters were small, but comfortable enough. It was shaped like an inverted, backwards L; on the immediate left of the entrance gaped the doorless frame into a small bathroom. Ahead of me sat a seating area, arranged around a fireplace set into the right wall. Beyond that, on the far left was his bed under a large, frosted window, speckled with the shadows of the pattering rain. Unsurprisingly, books were strewn all over the sparse furniture. 

He himself was reading, so engrossed in the pages he hadn’t even noticed me come inside and lean on the door until it closed behind me with a soft click. He sat on the sofa facing the newly built fire, its drowsy embers illuminating his face. I noticed his coat and hat hanging on a rack beside me, drenched in rain. He hadn’t even taken off his gloves; his leather fingers slid over the page, and turned it. 

Behind me, the key in the lock was jutting into my back. I shifted, moved my hand, and twisted it. A louder click - he jumped and looked over at me, holding the book to his chest as if it were a shield.

“Sister.” He exhaled. I moved to sit on the armchair adjacent to his couch, and his eyes fell back onto the book.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” 

Shaking his head, he closed the book over and studied it, that chronic flush already starting to creep over his cheeks. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, Copia.” I muttered. Setting the book on the coffee table with a sigh, his hands went to his lap, clenching. He said nothing. 

I slid my shoes from my feet.

“I’ve been thinking about the last time we were together.” I added, curling my legs up. His eyes drifted from my feet to my hands, which were reaching under the head covering to remove the bobby pins. When his eyes caught mine, I could see a glimmer of anticipation in them. I smiled, placing the veil on the arm of the chair and beginning to unpick my updo. 

“Sister…” 

“I don’t know what happened. It seemed like you stopped yourself from doing anything.” 

He chewed his lower lip slowly, watching wave after wave of my hair fall over my shoulders. I stacked the pins on the veil and ran my hands through my hair, sighing theatrically. 

“Even though I /wanted/ you to.” 

He breathed out quickly. His head fell into one of his hands, but he did not stop looking at me, growing discomfort etching into his face. 

“I couldn’t figure it out, for a while. And then I thought to myself…” Gripping the hem of my habit, I began to inch it up my thighs. “...maybe he thinks I’m kidding?” 

“Sister…” He groaned, but I hushed him. The hemline of the underskirts inched higher, and higher, until it skimmed over the tops of my stockings. Hooking my thumbs under the left one, I slid it down at the same slow pace. 

“Did you think about our time together, Copia?” 

He tore his eyes away from my skin at the sound of his name. Skin red, lips parted, he nodded curtly. 

“Did you touch yourself?” I whispered, barely, so he wouldn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to. He didn’t say anything, but the deepening flush told me all I needed to know. Sliding the stocking off, I started to work on the right one. 

“I did.” I sighed gently, glancing up from my hands at him. The tension in his body was painfully obvious; he was coiled as tight as a spring. I half expected him to pounce at any moment. My second stocking was off - I stretched out my legs, toes pointing, and then got to my feet. 

He stared at me warily, his eyes darting to register every small movement I made. I smiled at him sweetly and pulled the habit off over my head. 

Copia’s eyes roved over my exposed skin and underwear. I could hear how hard he was breathing; the knit of his brow deepening as he struggled to keep his composure.

“So, Cardinal.” I continued. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” 

Fists tight. A flash of eyes.

“Really.” He muttered flatly, his tone almost disinterested despite the obvious tension of his body. 

“Yes.” I pressed, then looked down at myself. “Am I taking this off, or you?” 

After a beat, he slowly stood, moving so he was standing before me. I looked up at him - not moving so as not to spook him - and waited. He studied my face, expressionless. 

“Turn around.” 

I obliged. He took a few seconds to build his nerve and then I felt the graze of leather across my shoulders as he swept my hair away. The clasp of my bra pulled from my body slightly, then the whole thing went slack. I shifted, letting it fall from my body. Before I could turn to him again, he hesitantly pressed himself against my back, his hands edging up the sides of my torso. I shivered, trying to keep still, as his fingers brushed the underside of my breasts. Resting his chin on my shoulder, I could hear the rasp of his breath. His hands cupped, just for a moment, and then he pulled away again. He fixed his eyes resolutely on my face when I faced him. 

“Copia.” I murmured. “I want you to do what you want to me. Whatever you crave the most.” 

His eyes flashed down to my chest; his flush intensified. His lips pressed together. 

“Take what you need from me.” I yearned to grab him. I needed to feel him against me. 

He didn’t act for a few moments, but he didn’t look away either. I gave him some space; I walked over to his bed, bending slightly to stroke the fabric. It was as small as my own. Considering he was supposed to be some high up member of clergy they could have at least got the guy a double.

He appeared beside me, and I noticed he had taken off his jacket. The second our eyes met I saw the same uncertainty as always. Smiling at him, I reached out and softly gripped his elbows, sliding my hands down to pick his own up. I held them for a moment, looking down at his gloves. His rings gleamed in the sconcelight; the leather was soft as butter against my palms. Carefully, I removed the rings from his fingers, setting them on the small end table by the bed - then, finger by finger, I tugged the gloves loose. He watched my actions intently, eyes flickering up every now and then to look at my face. Every time I caught his eye I smiled. His gloves joined his rings on the table; I took his bare hands in my own. 

He was quite cool to the touch. When my flesh touched his own, it seemed to spark something in him: he interlocked his fingers with mine, pausing for a second, then sliding his thumb down to grasp my hand. He lowered his head to kiss the back of my hand, just like he had done the first time we had met. My mouth fell open; his dark eyes burned up at me, and I wondered, with anxious excitement, what he was going to do to me. 

He moved so slowly, weighing up every action before he committed. It felt like an eternity but at long last, he leaned in to kiss me: a simple, sweet kiss completely opposed to the lust his tight muscles were struggling to contain. Growing bolder, his hands moved to hold my face, tilting my head aside so he could deepen the contact. An involuntary moan escaped my throat when I felt his tongue flicker between my lips and he hummed in response, his fingers combing into my hair. My knees shook. I pressed my hands to his chest, revelling in being able to touch his body again. 

His tongue exploring my mouth, he stepped forward until the back of my legs hit his bed; he followed me down as I sat, sinking to his knees, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his lips still grazing over mine. 

“You’re sure?” He muttered.

I had never been more sure in my life. His elbows rested on my thighs while his hands skimmed down the sides of my body. If he had flipped me over and fucked me then and there I would have been ready for it - but it looked like he had other things on his mind. The want burning between my legs was unbearable. I shifted my hips; just the pressure of sitting on his bed was uncomfortable. 

Copia continued his slow, methodic worship of my body. He inspected every inch of my skin quite tenderly, pausing over every freckle and mole like he was committing them to memory. Eventually, his hands travelled up to cup my breasts again, his lips coming down to kiss my sternum while I heaved and panted, writhing under his touch. Low moans poured from my throat when his tongue brushed over my nipple. I quietly began to beg him for more. He ignored me, eyes closed, lips sealing around it.   
I wove my fingers into his hair, my other hand gripping the bed sheets. My head tipped forward; my hair fell over us like a curtain, and at the sensation he opened his eyes to look at me, opening his mouth to drag his tongue over my breast. 

A small part of my mind - one of the last parts that wasn’t fogged up completely with heady arousal - was shivering in delight that this was his response of my offer. I had told him my body was his. He could have bent me over the couch or took me against the wall (not that I would have complained) and yet, he was choosing to caress my flesh with such tenderness I was going to burst. 

His head dipped lower, his mouth coming to a stop at my navel, which he considered for a few moments. Then, he pressed a kiss to it; and then, three below it, slightly lower each time until his lips were at the waistband of my underwear.

“Take these off.” He muttered, already halfway through doing so, fingers tangling with the thin elastic at my hips and tugging them down with an urgency completely unexpected alongside his previous movements. I lifted myself up so he could slide them off, the cold air hitting the wet heat between my legs. 

Copia pulled my knees over his shoulders, tearing his eyes away from the newly exposed flesh to stare up at me darkly. I was trembling, the desire screeching through my system with every pound of my heart. As much as I craved touching him - running my fingers into his hair, stroking the skin of his face - I was frozen by his gaze, holding my breath, forced to wait. 

“Copia.” I whined. 

At the sound of his name he exhaled sharply and snatched my hips up, crushing me into his mouth. I jolted at the first lap of his tongue; he groaned, shoulders heaving, and buried himself deeper, tasting as much of me as he could. My eyes rolled; my hands flew to steady myself on the bed behind me, my body twitching and writhing as it tried to match every flicker of his tongue against me. The grip on my thighs shifted, pushing them up and apart, spreading me open so his tongue could dip inside of me. His moustache brushed against my clit. I was beside myself, alternating between moaning breathlessly and staring down at him, gasping. 

He finally pulled away to breathe and I collapsed back on my elbows, speechless. With a shaky hand I snaked my fingers along his scalp. Closing his eyes, he brushed the flat of his tongue over me again, painfully slowly, forcing me to grind my hips onto his face just to get the friction I needed. He rolled his tongue up and over my clit, swirling around it in languid circles. When I tried to move against him his grip on my thighs tightened; he tugged my legs again, practically lifting my lower half off the bed completely. 

I was torturously close. I’d been that heated the past few days thinking about him that I honestly expected the moment he touched me I would shatter. Each lick and suck was only intensifying the fire that consumed my core, building higher and higher with no apparent end. When he pushed his tongue back inside of me again, burying his face so deep the tip of his nose was pressing against my clit, I began to pathetically beg, legs kicking, fisting the sheets either side of me. I bleated his name like a prayer until he listened, sucking my clit between his lips, flickering his tongue at it while he kept up the suction. The sudden hard stimulation had the wave building in seconds, impossibly high, until it finally crashed down, so good and so intense I saw stars. He did not relent, working my overstimulated flesh even though I groaned and pushed at his head, shuddering uncontrollably as he coaxed the aftershocks from my body. Finally, when I fell back on his bed, he stopped. 

It was good. It was so fucking good. There was finally a little peace inside of me; I was no longer a melting pot of hormones. He’d been worth the wait, and I was finally sated.

Of course, that lasted for all of the ten seconds it took me to come down, staring at his ceiling and trying to catch my breath. The second I - wobbily - propped myself back up on my elbows and caught sight of him still kneeling between my legs, hair all fucked up and his intense eyes gazing at me I needed more, immediately.   
The lower half of his face was slick with wetness. He licked his lips, a sudden shyness overcoming him when I looked at him. I must have been beaming at him. I couldn’t resist reaching to smooth down his hair, stroking his head fondly, and the corners of his mouth slightly. 

“What else are you going to do to me?” I whispered, lifting my legs from his shoulders so he could sit upright. He blinked as he considered my statement. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

I made the decision for him; I began to lift up his shirt. When he glanced up at me, uncertain, I caught his lips in a kiss so he couldn’t object. I could taste myself on him. We broke away so I could pull it over his head; he looked away, and I touched his shoulders lightly. He was a little chunkier than I expected, but that was fine, of course. There was a smattering of freckles over his chest that matched his face. I leaned down to kiss his forehead, murmuring into his skin that I wanted to see the rest of him. I actually felt his face grow warmer.

Copia rose to his feet. I busied myself pushing his sheets aside and twitching at the pillow, sensing he wasn’t the type to be watched when undressing. The bed sagged; he was looking at me, a fistful of the white sheets bundled into his lap. 

I clambered a little closer to him, my leg brushing against his thigh. I pressed kiss after kiss over his neck until his shoulders relaxed, skimming my hands over his bare chest experimentally. Out of habit, I put my hand over his heart - it was beating fit to burst, hammering away deep inside. My hand drifted lower, over his stomach; he was a little chubby down there. Grunting, he moved my hand away, brow furrowed. I cupped his face and kissed his nose before he could turn away.

“You’re cute.” 

He scoffed. 

“You don’t believe me?” He was too busy travelling his hand up and down my calf to respond properly, but he gave me a tiny shrug. Rolling my eyes, I adjusted myself so I was laying on my front, propping my face up in my hand. My fingers walked over to his thigh, running over the muscles, butterflies sizzling in my stomach. Above me, I could hear his breathing; it hitched when I pressed my mouth onto his skin. 

One hand squeezing his thigh, I inched the other one under the sheets until it found his cock. A quiet moan from above; I began to stroke it slowly. Jesus, it was thick. My fingers didn’t quite close around it… though my hands were a little small. I glanced over at his hands, gripping the sheets, and could easily imagine his left one wrapped around it. My stomach tightened. I needed to see it.

When I pulled the sheets away I risked glancing up at him to see his reaction; he was curious, more than anything, it seemed: eyes hooded, lips swollen and parted, watching. 

His cock was tinged almost purple from how hard it was, and with each stroke I could feel thick veins pressing back against my skin. Precum dripped from the head onto my hand each time I gently squeezed upwards. I kept glancing up at him as I moved my hand, trying to see what he liked; it was a game I had played many times, and it never got old. When I ran my finger over the slit his brow knitted ever so slightly, furrowing harder when I grinned and did it again. He watched, stricken, as I tasted him on my finger. 

“O-Oh.” He stuttered, breathless, when I dragged my tongue over his head. I sucked the tip into my mouth, barely able to fit it in, but he still moaned like I’d swallowed him to the hilt. My hand pumped on the rest of his cock; I sucked hard, humming despite the ache already setting into my jaw.

“Sister.” He hissed it through his teeth, hips rocking minutely. I glanced up at him: his head was forward, eyes closed, some of his hair falling in his face. A shaking hand pawed at my cheek and then slid up into my hair, his nails lightly razing my scalp. I tried to swallow more of him down - choked - pulled back up and twirled my tongue over his head. That seemed to get the most out of him; his jaw fell open and he groaned, loudly. 

“/Sister/.” He growled, panting, trying to pull away a little - but I wouldn’t let him; the pulse was back between my legs and his moans were feeding it. I loved the taste of him, I loved the guttural noises he couldn’t help making, I loved the ache in my jaw from having his cock inside of it; I sucked on the head, reaching down to curve my fingers inside of myself, too far gone to notice the sting of his fingernails on my scalp. He pushed half-heartedly on my head but I only sucked harder in response, moaning while my fingers churned over my core. He began to plead again - but then he buckled forward, fisting my hair, and came into my mouth.

It took me by surprise. I reared back, his come shooting onto my chin and then his sheets, over and over. I swallowed hard, overcome by the saltiness. Licked it from my lips. Waited for him to finish.

Fucking hell. When was the last time the man got laid? 

“Sorry.” I giggled, and he just looked at me, despondent, still trying to catch his breath. I wiped his come from my chin and licked my hand clean (an act that made his eyebrows shoot up his forehead) and then looked down at his sheets guiltily. 

“My bad.” 

“I… I tried to say…” He muttered, cheeks redder than I’d ever seen. The sheets were back over his lap and he stared down at his hands. 

“I know you did. It’s my fault. I got carried away.” I cupped my hand over the heat still throbbing between my legs, sighing. Idiot. Looked like I wasn’t getting fucked today, either. Hubris, as always.

He plucked at his spoiled sheets and shrugged. 

“We can keep going.” He muttered. “If you want.” 

I pressed my lips together and waited to see what he would do. Gingerly, he reached over and moved my hand away from me, sliding his own up my thigh. Before he could touch me properly, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of me. We shifted until we were both comfortable: him laying beside me, me flat on my back. His hand skimmed down my front to between my legs, gently nudging them apart so he could reach. I pulled him down to kiss him; he slid a finger inside of me, experimenting, then another, the same unhurried pace as before. I could feel the twist and curve of his fingers as he searched, pressing another closed-mouth kiss onto my face. I shifted my hips until he reached the spot inside of me and then nodded quickly, catching his mouth against mine again. His pace quickened, driving relentlessly against that spot while I bucked and moaned. I dipped my tongue between his lips, brushing it against his: I realised he could probably taste himself on me, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Copia’s hand adjusted and he pressed a third finger into me, the slight stretch making me wriggle and pull him closer. His mouth fell to my neck, eerily drawn to the most sensitive spot like he already knew I liked it there. He sucked, gently, and I had to pull away.

“No, no, you can’t.” I mumbled. “Not there. People will see.”

“So.” He huffed, but obeyed anyway, returning to simply press a kiss there instead. He pulled me closer against him - and I felt something on my hip.

“Wh-” 

I didn’t get a chance; my question interrupted by a fierce kiss, his fingers working quickly, forcing me over the edge in a blurry haze. 

While he raised his fingers to his mouth, leaving me to come down, I reached blindly down his body, by my hip. 

“What the fuck.” 

He was half-hard already. 

“Copia, what the fuck.” 

He didn’t reply, but his hands were roaming over my body, mouth pressing to my neck again. I couldn’t help giggling. He was getting more into it with each passing second, starting to grab and knead at my waist. Grabbing his wrists, I moved his hands up to my chest; he immediately began massaging them, squeezing them together, kissing them. 

“Are you finally gonna fuck me?” I giggled, a little light headed. Silently, he moved himself between my legs, his thighs either side of me, his cock resting between us when he leaned down to look at me. His hands continued to travel over my skin, igniting trails of fire with each pass of his fingers. I canted my hips up so my wet flesh slid against his cock; his mouth fell open and he watched, spellbound, at the sight of his dick gliding against me. 

“Copia.” I said, almost sing-song, waiting for him to drag his eyes away and look at me. I was practically fucking giddy with excitement. I couldn’t believe it was about to happen. He froze in place, gazing at me through hazy eyes while his fingers tightened harder and harder on my hips. I started to egg him on - or, more truthfully, tease him. Giggling, I wriggled about as he tried to rut against me, low, desperate moans coming from his slack mouth. 

The other man in my life (the one who held the crown of being the most infuriating tease on the continent) loved it when I taunted him, laughing it off and playing along. Copia, it seemed, was not impressed. I could see it in his face. He’d had enough.

I tried to sit up to kiss him - to reassure him - but he planted one hand on my abdomen and kept me flat. His thighs squeezed slightly around me as he shifted, grabbing his cock and pushing it into me. I was not laughing anymore. 

I couldn’t even speak. Instead, some strangled noise came from my throat as he eased into me; for once during our time together, I was happy he had such a slow pace. I tried my best to relax through the stretch, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, mouth hanging open; his hold on my hips was intense enough that his fingers were buckling my flesh. I tried to say something, only managing to warble some obscenities. I dropped my forearm over my eyes, gasping. He filled me up entirely, stretching me just to the point where the pleasure bordered on pain. After what felt like hours, his hips were flush against me and he stopped completely. I didn’t move my arm from my eyes. I already knew he was staring at me again. 

“Wait.” I panted. “Just… just wait.” 

He growled in response but thankfully obeyed, staying still as I repositioned myself a few times, trying to get used to the feeling of him inside me. It was as intense as my first time - and the same girlish excitement roared through my veins. 

Moving my arm, I looked down. He was waiting, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense from where he was gripping me. A shudder ran through me at the sight of his ravenous eyes. The man’s restraint was a piano wire stretched to its limits. All I had to do was pull it and it would snap.

I nodded my head.

Copia moved.

Slowly at first, of course, getting used to the feeling himself. He pulled himself almost entirely out and then slid back in, looking down to watch. He would glance up every few seconds to study my face. I breathed evenly, running my hands over his thighs to spur him on. His thrusts - gentle to begin with - were gradually becoming harder, his moans growing as he started to lose it. He settled at a steady pace; forceful enough that each movement made the headboard thwack against the wall and my toes curl as he slammed into me, slow and deliciously deep. Finally, Copia released my hips to grab my shoulders instead, using them as leverage to drag me down onto his dick. Running my hands up his arms, I watched him as I tried to keep my breath from being knocked out of me by his every thrust. His eyes were screwed shut from the effort, black paint smeared over his cheeks.

“Co-pia.” I groaned, voice jolting mid-word from a particularly hard thrust. Pulling at him until he lay over me, I wrapped myself around his body; the feeling of his feverish skin pressed against my own had my pulse skipping in my wrists. My hands roamed over his back, my nails scoring his pale skin.

It was so much. I was surrounded by him: his weight pinning my body into his bed, his mouth and tongue rasping over my neck, his cock slamming into me over and over until tears ran over my cheeks. When I raked my nails over his back his moaning intensified, the graze of his teeth at my throat. I twisted my hand into his hair and begged him to come. It felt so good I couldn’t stand it anymore. His weight pressed into me harder. His teeth sank into my neck - and the unexpected pain broke me. He must have come too, but I was too busy astral projecting to another planet, my body gripping at his skin and slurring his name somewhere far down below. 

When it was finally over, I was too exhausted to move, still crushed underneath him. He stayed like that until the breathing in my ear was steadier, and then he hesitantly raised his head. I stroked some strands of hair from his face - a vain effort, really, considering it was sticking up all over - and smiled at him. Most of his black paint was smudged away; I expected I would find some of it rubbed over my neck. He was sweaty, and red, and gross.

And I really liked him.

It took me a few seconds to notice he wasn’t looking me in the eye - instead, his gaze was fixed slightly lower down than my face. I saw panic bloom, his pupils widening, and he pulled away a little more. 

“...Ah.” 

Such a simple noise but it struck ice into my heart. My fingers travelled to the spot he was looking at: my neck. It was sore to the touch, aching like a bruise already, and I could feel the indentations of his teeth in my flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They call him Cardinal 'No-Come-Down' Copia. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'd just like to say thank you, again, for everyone's support. Reading your comments and messages absolutely make my day. I really hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Thank you to guzma_art on instagram who drew some wonderful fan art based on Chapter 8; you are so talented, and I'm stunned this silly little fic would inspire you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cardinal is (somehow) surprised to find out the Sister is eternally thirsty. Papa has some choice words for the Sister.

Copia’s eyes flickered up to my very unimpressed expression, and he wilted so pathetically I rolled my eyes. 

“You’re an idiot.” I groaned. “How bad is it?” 

“Not…” His tongue darted over his lips. “Not that bad, really.” 

I tried to sit up but he pushed me back down, repeatedly pressing his lips over the offending spot despite my protestations. His moustache was tickling me; laughing, I tried to push him off me.

“Let me up!” I insisted. “I need to get up anyway. Your sheets are going to be wrecked.” 

“No, no - you should stay here.” He whispered frantically. 

“Copia, your dick is still inside of me.” 

On cue, his face flushed and he sat up, covering himself with the sheet. The muscles in my legs shrieked when I put my weight on them - and there was already a soreness between my legs. I staggered a few steps, then began the dash to his bathroom so he wouldn’t have to clean his floor as well as his sheets. 

The bath was to my right, the loo and sink crowded beside it. I wiped myself down with some toilet paper and then faced up to the mirror, my mouth tightening into a grim line at the sight of it. 

“Bastard.” I scoffed. You could see every groove of his teeth, and the skin was already blooming with purple and yellow. When I reached up to touch it it ached, protesting even the lightest touch of my fingertip. I splashed some cold water onto it, and over my face, and despite my dimmest hopes it did very little to hide the gigantic bite that was steadily getting redder. Outside, I could hear him scurrying about like a rat, opening cupboards and drawers. 

“What did I tell you?” I called, and he stopped.

“Not there.” His mumbled reply. 

“Jesus Christ.” I huffed. Even if I wore the habit it would still be peeking over the collar. Looked like I was trading for makeup with another senior Sister when I went back to my dorm tonight. 

When I came back into his quarters, he was sitting on his freshly made bed in his underwear, as red in the face as the new sheets were. He regarded me with disbelief, and I frowned at him while I searched for my underwear.

“What?” 

He shrugged, wringing his hands. I found them flung over a boom box on a side cabinet, and went to retrieve them. 

“Are you regretting it?” I asked, scooping them up. When I turned back he was shaking his head, averting his eyes as I approached. 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know.” He muttered. “It’s… I don’t think I could explain.” 

He watched me step back into my underwear and then shifted his gaze again, hands squeezing together. But they soon drifted back over to me, and I could see the hunger in them. 

“Dark Lord below, Copia.” I laughed. “I don’t think I can go again. Tomorrow, maybe?” 

His head snapped up.

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah? Oh, are you busy? We can meet up some other time.” 

“You’re coming back, Sister?” 

Even though most of the paint was gone from around his eyes, they still managed to be as intense as always as he stared at me, incredulous. I’d wandered over to the other side of the room to retrieve my bra and habit, and now was standing before him with them draped over my forearm, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” 

Perhaps my own stare was a tad too accusatory. He dropped his face into his hands and closed his eyes. 

“I… I thought that once you’d… been here… that’d be that.” He mumbled. 

“Right. Like some harlot seductress going around tempting men until they sleep with me and then never speaking to them again?” 

He shrugged, chewing his lip. I tightened my hold on the clothes. Ouch. 

“Well, no. For your information, Cardinal, I’m not one to do that.” A movie reel of random encounters with several ghouls and visiting clergy officers played before my eyes, and I coughed. 

“Well, I’m not one to bedhop.” 

...I was literally fucking the leader of the church and the second in command, and had been alternating between the two on some days. Sighing, I glared at him, even though it wasn’t his fault. 

“Alright. I’m a bit of a slut. Whatever. But I came to see you because I like you. And I’d like to do it again, if you want to.” 

Nodding quickly, he looked up at me. I could see the purple bags under his eyes; it was easy to imagine him up at all hours in the library. Poor guy looked like he needed a week long nap. 

“You need to wash your face and get some sleep.” I smiled, then I paused. “Is that why you made me wait so long?” 

Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, then regarded the black paint that had transferred onto his palm.

“Sort of.” He mumbled. “I don’t think I could explain.” 

Forgoing the bra, I pulled the habit back over my head, wincing when the collar rubbed against the bite. With a careful aim, I pulled the bra between my thumbs and slingshotted it onto the bed beside him and smiled.

“Well, I want to see you as much as I can.” I stopped to watch him stare at the discarded lingerie like it was a black snake coiled up on his sheets. What a strange guy. 

“How long are you here for, Cardinal?” 

“I’m not sure, Sister.” He muttered, still looking over at the bra. “Sister Imperator told me it was a temporary transfer. But it could become permanent.” 

“So you’ve been on your best behaviour? Doing extra errands like a good boy?” I giggled, but he just nodded, eyes drooping with exhaustion. I clucked my tongue and went over to him, taking his face in my hands, my fingers in his sideburns. 

“You’re doing good work. Maybe too much of it, for now.” 

His eyes flickered as he studied my face.

“Perhaps you could find out from Sister Imperator how I’m doing.” He muttered, and to my horror his tone was clearly only half-joking. 

I was not about to start fucking Imperator for information. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” I muttered, kissing the deep worry lines on his forehead. “Go to sleep.” 

He followed me to the door (after a brief stop to pull my stockings and shoes back on, and grab the veil). Just before I went to turn the lock, he caught my arm. I turned to look at him; his face was close, and he pushed a tress of my hair behind my ear. His eyes were on my lips, and even though I’d been as physically close to him as I possible could be just fifteen minutes before, the premise of him kissing me was just as gut-wrenchingly thrilling as it had been the first time. 

He seemed to think better of something, and ended up kissing my cheek, whispering a soft ‘thank you, Sister’ into my skin. Breathless, I opened the door and slipped out into the corridor. I could see his face peeking around the door, watching me. Then, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

The door closed, and it felt like he was a hundred miles away. 

-

The recommended protocol for getting rid of a love bite is to ice it, and then disperse the blood accumulated under the skin. 

This was not my first rodeo. As one of the abbey’s bikes, I had suffered my fair share of hickeys. So, I reverted to my tried and true method of rubbing a penny across my skin as hard as I could to shift the bruise. I had to bite down on my sleeve to stop myself from shrieking. After an excruciating five minutes, I peeked into the little mirror in my dorm. 

It seemed I had pissed it off. 

It was now swollen, hot to the touch, and deep purple. I wondered if he’d actually managed to break the skin. If he had, dragging a dirty penny across it might not have been the best idea. There was probably a new strain of tuberculosis developing in my blood already. 

I left my dorm and knocked on the one a little further down, trying to look as casual as possible with my hand pressed over my neck. 

Sister June answered, blinking sleep from her eyes.

“Hm?” 

“I know it’s late, sorry, but do you have any makeup to trade?” 

“Uh… maybe? What’s up? You got a midnight ball to go to?” She joked, rubbing her face. I noticed her nails were black; I had to come back another time and trade her for some polish.

“It’s for tomorrow. I need to cover something up. I’ll give you…” My eyes glazed as I hurriedly thought. 

“Cover what up?” 

“Hickey.” 

She broke into a devious grin. 

“Who?”

“A good Sister doesn’t kiss and tell.” I tutted. “Listen, what do you want for it?” 

She went into her room, the skirts of her nightie flowing behind her as she ducked into her drawers. When she returned, she had a small bottle of concealer. 

“Is this a match for you?” 

When I reached to take it, quick as a flash she pulled my hand from my neck. Her breath whistled through her teeth as she inhaled sharply.

“Fucking hell. Did you mess with a fire ghoul in heat or something?” 

“So it’s noticeable, then?” I mumbled. 

She tossed the bottle into my hand. “Just take it. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With a final sympathetic glance, Sister June closed the door. 

-

I used up the bottle in two days. Even then, I spent the majority of lesson times with my hand hovering by my neck, my hair down despite Sister Imperator’s remarks about tying it up so I could actually see my work. Desperate, I dug through my wardrobe to find my old habit from my first Senior year, the one with the white cowl. It meant I had no choice but to wear the veil, but the more layers I had between prying eyes and the bite the better.

I didn’t get a chance to see Copia again. The day after our evening together I spotted him in the library, chaperoning Nihil about and looking more like he was ready to head dive out of the window with each passing second. He hadn’t noticed I was there, and I didn’t want to bother him. The day after that, he didn’t answer the door to his office or his quarters. 

I briefly saw Papa in the corridors, carrying a stack of papers almost as big as he was. He didn’t even see me at first over them, but when he did he immediately remarked on how much I was veiling. I accused him of calling me a slut and he laughed, then sighed, and told me he couldn’t see me until he got some work done, as much as he wanted to. He advised giving him at least two days.

Honestly, I needed the rest. The morning after Copia, I could barely move out of bed. Every muscle in my body had been pulled, it seemed, screeching in pain with each movement. I was covered in bruises - you could actually see the imprints of his hands and fingers on my hips, mapping where they had travelled all over my body. My neck would throb randomly, and stung every time I absentmindedly touched it. And, worst of all, it hurt to fucking sit down. Never had I hated the hard wooden seats of the classrooms more in my life. I was wriggling around in my chair repositioning myself so often the other Sisters probably thought I’d caught something. 

By the time I ventured to Papa’s office a few days later, the worst of it was over - except for the bite. It had faded some, but the teeth marks were now dark red lines bordering a pansy-like bruise peppered in yellow. Ah well. It was hidden under the cowl, anyway. 

Upon entering, I noted the fire was dying, the incense on his desk had long since burned down, and that there was paper absolutely everywhere. In the midst of this chaos Papa sat in his office chair, writing quickly. He looked up at me and flashed me a grin, grabbing a golden stamp at his left.

“Ah.” He daubed it in the ink, and stamped the papers before him in quick succession. “Cara mia.” 

“I can come back, Papa.” 

“No, no. It looks a lot, but it is okay.” Tapping the pages together, he set them beside a similar pile on his right. 

I hovered by his desk, blinking at the mountain of paperwork. His eyebrow raised at my expression.

“I have a system.” 

“Is the system to just chuck everything everywhere and hope for the best?” I scoffed. 

“Perhaps.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “You are, ah, different today, mia amore.” 

“How?” I was staring at him. I hadn’t actually realised how much I’d missed the Italian bastard. His lovely accent made his words lilt and dance, the steady cadence of his speech luring me towards him. He was built to be charismatic, and even though I’d spent quite a lot of time with him I was still susceptible to falling under his spell. I caught myself smiling as I looked at his face.

Uncrossing his legs, he put one foot up on the edge of the desk and shrugged, picking at his nails. 

“You had this look the last time I see you.” 

“What do you mean?” I had unconsciously moved to his side. There was a hard line in his brow, and my blood immediately ran cold. 

“What do you mean?” I repeated, a good few octaves higher. He clucked his tongue and sighed.

“You don’t like this habit. I know this. Because,” He looked at me through the sides of his eyes, “years ago, you struggle to take it off quick. And you say, ‘Papa, I hate this fucking habit’. And I say to you…” 

“You don’t have to wear the veil.” I mumbled. Satan help me. Why did he have the memory of an elephant? Couldn’t he have been more like his dad, who barely remembered to keep himself alive by breathing every so often? 

“But you wear it.” He shrugged. “So I say this. Strange, hm?” 

I threaded my fingers together and waited. He resumed fussing with his hands like I wasn’t there. After leaving me to sweat, he sighed and got up from the chair, smiling at me gently. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“You wear this after you see this Cardinal.” 

Oh, Lucifer. God. Jesus. Buddha. Anyone. The edge in his eyes was icy, his tone dripping in venom. 

I didn’t understand. I thought he had said it was okay to…? But clearly fucking not. I’d never seen this look on him before - so dark, so volatile. My gawping, colourless face must have told him everything because he suddenly stalked forward. Yelping, I turned to run but he cornered me at the wall, one hand either side of me.

“Cara,” He whispered, his voice dangerously low. I moaned and turned my head away. “I ask you to tell me everything, yes?” 

I nodded, my movements disjointed. I was pressed as far into the wall as I could, away from him and his intoxicating command. He was so close and my body was betraying me; I panted, stealing a look at him, knees shaking. 

He wasn’t completely angry, I realised, studying his face. I’d seen this before. But I didn’t know if he knew he wasn’t angry, yet. His pupils were huge - just the slightest rim of colour around two black, intent eyes. The swell of his lips. The rasp of his breath. Papa leaned in, his lips brushing over my jaw on their path to my ear. He paused there for a second, his breath blasting hot on my skin and giving me goosebumps. 

“Tell me what he did to you.” He hissed.

“Papa…” I whimpered, my hands on his chest, desperate for space. In a flash he grabbed the collar of my cowl and pulled it down, one side and then the other, until the bite came into view. 

He stood, stunned and silent, for a few seconds, just staring at it. Tenderly, he drew over it with his thumb, a wince crossing my face at the sting of contact.

“Cara mia…” He whispered, excitement glinting bright in his eyes. “This… stronzo… has marked you.” 

“Yeah.” I croaked. “He sure did.” 

He fixed his eyes on mine.

“He fucked you?” 

There was a degree of offense in his statement, but something else entirely that eclipsed it. Looking into his eyes, I could almost see the whirlwind of emotions ricocheting around in his head. His body pressed so close to me, there was something evident to me, but maybe not for him. I cast my hand down his front to the bulge in his pants.

“Papa,” I whispered. “You’re hard.” 

Blinking, he glanced down briefly and then back up at me. He wavered as he tried to deal with this realisation. I continued to gently stroke him through his trousers; a few seconds later he began grinding his hips into my touch, pinning me into the wall. 

“Tell me about it.” He growled, hands capturing my face, thumbs on my cheeks so I couldn’t turn away. When I said nothing, he pressed closer, crushing his cock against me and trapping my hand between us. 

“Tell your Papa.” He insisted, rutting himself against my hip. 

“I don’t know what you want.” I whined. At this point, I couldn’t tell if he was furious or not. I didn’t know how to play this game, and it simultaneously made my blood run cold and my flesh grow warm.

“You liked it, yes?”

I nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. Frustrated, he kissed me so ferociously our teeth collided. I wriggled my face away, gasping, as he continued to lick a line along my jaw. 

“How did it feel?” He rasped.

“So fucking good.” I whimpered. My pulled muscles were aching from the strain of trying to keep him from overwhelming me. 

“Tell me about him.” He ordered, releasing some of the pressure from his hips so he could reach down to his fly. I sucked in the uncomfortably warm air around us; he began pulling the skirts of the habit up my legs. 

“He’s shy.” I muttered, bracing myself against the wall. He laughed at that, his hand squeezing my thigh tight.

“Very shy, chiaramente.” He clucked his tongue sarcastically. “More.”

“He was. He was shy at first. And then he got… carried away.”

Papa moved his hand to my neck and squeezed ever so gently. The slightest pressure on the bite had me cringing; he pulled the cowl down to look at it again, breathing hard.

“More. Dimmi. Tell me how this Cardinal fucked you.”

“Papa, please -”

“Ghuleh.” His tone lifted, dangerously gentle. “Perhaps you do not tell me because it might hurt my feelings? He was better, yes?”

“N-no - !”

“Ah, so he was bad?”

“No, no. It was different.” It was getting so hard to breathe. He boxed me in again, hands hot on my cheeks and caging me with his hips, his cock leaking precum onto my habit. 

“I must tell you, mia amore,” He purred. “I have a meeting with Father and Sister very shortly. But I do so wish to know this information.” He shrugged a little, smiling sweetly at me. “Perhaps they can stand and wait while I wait for you to tell me.”

“Fuck’s sake - ” I hissed. His face was inches from mine. “Fine. He fucked me so hard I could barely walk the next day. I’m still sore. I feel like someone put a traffic cone up me. Enough?”

He contemplated my words, his finger trailing over the fabric on my neck above the mark. 

“Sore, still?”

I just nodded, eyes fixed on the door. I couldn’t imagine the horror of not only Imperator but also Nihil seeing me like this. I’d go ask the ghouls to use me as hunting practice. 

“Do you think, then, if I fucked you now, it will still be sore?” He whispered. 

“I-I’m not sure, Papa.” I mumbled. His eyes flickered over me and then he grinned.

“We should find this out.”

With no warning, he shoved me up onto the wall, balancing me on his hips as he pulled my underwear aside so savagely I heard the side seam rip. The darkness in his eyes chilled me, making my heart race with unease, but I still shivered and held him, waiting impatiently for him to move. I felt the tip of his cock slide against me a few times - him moaning at how wet I was - and then he thrust into me, hilting himself in a single motion so rough I bounced slightly up the wall. The barely rested muscles and tissues of my body keened in response; gritting my teeth, I could only hold onto him as he drove his cock into me ruthlessly.

“Is he… bigger?” Papa slurred, pressing careless kisses over my jaw. I gathered myself as best I could and forced out a reply.

“Dunno.” I gasped. “Thicker. Not as long.”

“Thicker?” He groaned. I could feel the bite of his nails in the backs of my thighs. 

“Did he -” His tongue flashed over his lips. “Did he make you come?” 

At my hesitant nod, he thrust faster, the obscene noises of his body entering mine loud in his otherwise silent office. 

“How, cara?” Papa insisted.

There was a dull pain setting into my abdomen. I had been fighting to keep myself upright but now I gave up, exhausted; he kept me up there in his fervor anyway, pushing his forehead against mine. It was sore - achey, cringe-inducingly so - but still, it stirred the heat in my gut. Usually, Papa was composed. He delighted in turning me into a frustrated mess. But this was completely new - he fucked me with abandon, unable even to stop the worryingly loud noises spilling from his mouth.

“Went down on me.” I mumbled. “Touched me. Fucked me.” 

“Fuck.” He croaked, his eyes squeezing shut. With a few final savage snaps of his hips, I felt him spill inside of me. 

Laying a kiss onto my lips, he pulled out and set me onto my shaking feet, zipping himself up before fussing with my skirts and replacing my underwear. All the while I just stared at him, but he wasn’t quite meeting my eye.

“What the fuck was all that about?” 

“I don’t know what you mean by this, cara.” He mumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“You just -” 

The bastard actually set his finger over my lips and checked his watch, tutting. 

“The time, cara mia! Perhaps you should be going. Unless you wish to see my father?” He grinned tersely. And when I looked at him - really looked at him, under the paint - I could see the faintest pink flush on his face. 

Papa was embarrassed. I didn’t even think he could feel that emotion. 

“I did find something out this time.” I offered. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he began to escort me to the door, eyebrow raising at my statement. 

“Sister Imperator told him it’s a temporary transfer, with a possibility of a permanent post. He doesn’t know what she’s going to do with him. So if there’s some big conspiracy like you’re afraid of, he’s not in on it.”

“Ah, but this is only what he tells you.” 

“Trust me on this.” I chuckled. “I think if Imperator told him to usurp you, he’d go into cardiac arrest. Poor guy’s run ragged.” 

“You like him.” Papa remarked, stopping beside the door. I shrugged and smiled weakly. 

“Maybe. Is that a problem?” I joked.

Smiling, Papa placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. 

“I’ll think about it.” He muttered, darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papa III discovering kinks he never knew he had. 
> 
> Thanks for reading cccc: leave a comment or message me on tumblr the REVIEWS i'm thirstier for your feedback than the Sister tbh


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister has something to confess. Papa wants her to confess something else.

Just as I was heading towards the exit of the library, a fellow Sister who had watched me go to Copia’s office raised her head from her book as I passed by. 

“Not there?”

“Yeah, he was. I just knocked and ran.” 

“Alright, no need to be a bitch. What do you need him for?” 

“Conversation.” I muttered. “Books.”

“I think he’s doing confessions today. Papa Emeritus is too busy.”

“Oh.” Confessionals were right up Papa’s alley, of course. The ability to sit and talk to hundreds of people in quick succession, hearing them grovel for his advice. I couldn’t really imagine Copia being very happy having that duty, though - at least his face was hidden when he was doing it. 

As the evening was drawing to a close, there was only a short line left for the confessionals, waiting a respectful distance away from the confessional booths so as not to overhear. Like every other room in the abbey it was gloriously over the top in decor: the high ceiling was painted with biblical scenes, the windows pointed and stained so coloured light was projected onto the floor every time the sun shone The confessional itself was dark wood, baroque looking in design, and intricately carved, dominating the wall. I took my place at the back of the queue behind two ghouls - a twitchy earth ghoul, and an air one. 

“I’m telling you, you need to get it off your chest.” The air ghoul cajoled.

“Are you sure this is what the confessionals are for? Like, are you really sure?” 

“Pretty sure? You’re confessing, aren’t you?” 

The earth ghouls gripped onto his suspenders and shrugged, hazel eyes darting around the gold gilded room. 

“This feels pretty Catholic.” He muttered.

“And you’re only noticing this now?” The air ghoul laughed. 

“No, not that, moron. I was talking to Ser and he said that his confessional with Papa was like, advice and stuff. This is an actual confession.” 

“If you’re having second thoughts, let’s leave it.” 

The earth ghoul ran his hands up and down the suspenders, his nails making a whooshing sound on the elasticated fabric.

“I feel bad, though.” He mumbled. “I didn’t mean to do it. Did you hear Nihil has been asking around if anyone seen anything?”

“No, I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me. That bust of him was probably like, an Emeritus prized heirloom. Ancient, sacred stone was used for it - stone from the very domain of Lucifer himself.” The air ghoul teased. The earth ghoul shuddered, whining.

“I have to say something. Papa the Third is pretty nice. He’ll probably laugh about it, really. Because it’s quite funny how it all happened.” He babbled.

“It’s not Papa today.” I quipped. The air ghoul’s eyes shone in growing amusement. The earth ghoul spun to face me.

“What?”

“Papa’s busy. The Cardinal is doing confessions today.” I nodded forward; the confessional opened, a Sister coming out and walking past us out the door. “After you.” 

“Fuck that.” The earth ghoul spat. “No way. He’s a church official. There’s no way he’d find it funny.” 

“Papa’s literally the most elite power of the church?” 

“Yeah? But he’s not fucking scary?” The earth ghoul’s tail flicked a few times in agitation. “I’ll leave it til next week.”

The air ghoul followed after his friend, still trying to convince him it was a good idea. That left me. I wandered over to the confessional, passing the door I was supposed to enter. Instead, I knocked lightly on his door. 

Silence. 

“Forgive me, Cardinal.” I called. “I have sinned.” 

More silence. Clicking my tongue, I cracked open the door. 

Christ, it was dark in there. All I could see was the mass of red of his cassock, and his one white eye scintillating in the light as I peeked inside. His perturbed expression quickly changed from ire to surprise when he realised who it was. 

“Sister?” 

He made like he was about to stand, but I closed the door behind me and gestured for him to stay put. The leather of his gloves creaked as he tightened his fists, watching me. The booth was barely three paces long. I could lean forward and grab the tops of his legs if I wanted to. 

“Forgive me, Cardinal, for I have sinned.” I repeated, lowering my voice to a purr. He blinked, looking up at the latticed window, and then back at me. 

His mouth opened.

“I know I’m supposed to be on the other side.” I hissed. 

His mouth closed. 

“Lucifer.” I muttered, heaving a sigh. I fell to my knees and pressed my hands together as if in prayer, gazing up at him. 

He just stared at me. I noticed he had a book on his lap, turned over and open so the pages were resting on the fabric. 

“Am I gonna have to say it again?” I rolled my eyes.

Shifting about in his seat, he cleared his throat. 

“It’s still your turn, actually.” He muttered. I cast my mind back to my Catholic teachings, way back when I was a junior Sister. I frowned. Of course he was right.

“It’s been…” Jesus, when did I actually last go to confession? I was an awful Sister. I stopped going around the time I first got into Papa’s pants; I only ever went as an excuse to see him. “... a long time since my last confession. I accuse myself of a single sin.” 

Copia nodded once, waiting, his breathing slow and deep. 

“I got fucked by someone and now I can’t rest until he does it again.” I whispered, gazing up at him piously. He puffed out his breath and shook his head.

“That’s… ah... quite a sin, Sister.” He mumbled. “I’m… I’m not sure how to help you with that.” 

“I think you know.” I shuffled forward and folded my arms over his knees, resting my chin on them. For a moment, his eyes closed, brow furrowing.

“I’m doing confessional.” He whispered.

“I’m the last one! Let’s go to your place.” I got to my feet but he shook his head quickly. 

“I have more work to do after this. I can’t.” 

“Alright.” I glanced around the dark little cubby. “Here, then?” 

Copia looked scandalised. 

“It’s…. It’s the confessional.” He stated, incredulous. 

“So?” 

Taking the biretta from his head, he pushed his face into his hand, leaving it there for several seconds. Then, he ran his hand up and over his hair.

“I couldn’t.” He mumbled. 

“So you’re telling me if I was completely naked in front of you now, you’d do nothing about it?” I sniffed. He nodded once, head still hanging down. 

“Alright.” Grabbing the hem of my skirts, I snatched it up to under my chin. “Prove it.” 

His head raised. I was wearing nothing under the habit, and now my entire nude front was displayed to him. He sat back heavily in the seat, staring. One hand reached towards me, fingers splayed, and then snapped back to his body.

“Belial.” He rasped. “Sister, you should go.” 

“Or what?” I stepped closer, my legs touching his knees. Breathing shakily, he cast his eyes upwards, saying nothing. I sighed.

“If you want me to go, I will. Just…” My cheeks burned, hating the pathetic words before I’d even gotten them out. “... touch me again, please. I need to feel your hands on me again.” 

Copia studied me for a moment. Then, he reached out for me again. Stopped. Pulled back. 

The rejection turned my stomach, and I looked away.

Just as I began to lower my habit, he bit the tip of his finger and pulled, and then the next, over and over until his hand slid out of the glove. Dropping it into his lap, he grazed his knuckles gingerly over my stomach, pausing when I shivered. His dark eyes flickered up to my own. I waited, fingers curling tight around the hem. 

Eyes lowering, he pressed his palm onto my hip and ran it up the side of my body, up over my ribs, then across and down my stomach. He stopped again to remove the other glove - pulling at it with growing impatience - and then both of his hands were on me, roaming up my sides, cupping at my breasts. His breath hitched and he traced his thumbs over my hardening nipples. I chewed my lip, watching his hands, watching his face. His eyes met mine. He pinched one, gently at first, anticipating my reaction. I shifted my feet, knees wobbling. 

Exhaling sharply, he twisted. The sweet agony shot into my gut like a bolt of lightning. I keened, and he quickly shushed me, breathing hard. His tongue flickered between his lips. Bending his fingers, he trailed his nails over my flesh, sending sparks of electricity flying over my nerves, still rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger. He was hard to see in the dark but I knew he was flushed; judging by the growing bite of his nails and his panting, he was getting all worked up again. The thought that from just touching my body would send this awkward, shifty man into overdrive made my thighs clench. I pressed ever closer to him, my breath wavering, my wetness slicking my inner thighs. 

Copia shot forward and dragged his tongue over my skin, up to my sternum, his breath hot and rasping. Just as soon as he’d done it, he pulled away again, eyes wide in shock at his action. He looked up at me, jaw hanging open. 

“You dirty little man.” I giggled, breathless. I leaned over to catch his lips against mine; he put up no resistance, twirling his tongue over my own. When I pulled his lip between my teeth, a growl rumbled from his chest. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” I mumbled, already attempting to paw at him through the cassock. My fingers briefly touched his cock, straining under the fabric, but he pushed my hand away.

“No.” He mumbled. “Not me.” His eyes darted up to the window again and then he stood, the items on his lap clattering to the floor, kissing me hungrily, switching us around. I fell into the seat and he dropped to his knees, inching my habit back up my legs. He breathed hard as he exposed more of my skin even though I’d had it all out for him seconds ago. 

It was hot and cramped in the confessional, and he took up quite a lot of space on the floor. Sweat was beading on his forehead, the heat making him as red as the cassock. Holding my thighs, he pushed upwards so my hips tilted and I was perched on the edge of the stool. Copia wasted no time running his tongue over me, stifling a groan when I reached to push his head down desperately. My heartbeat thudded in my ears while I looked down at him, his lips and tongue travelling all over me before settling on my clit. 

I had to stuff my fingers into my mouth to keep quiet, biting down on the side of my hand. There was no room to maneuver in the confined space and I had to take the full force of his ravenous desire, barely able to keep upright on the stool if he hadn’t been holding me there. Sliding his fingers into me, he began moving them at a steady pace, his laboured breath blasting over my stomach. Every so often he would break away to catch his breath and press his lips to my inner thighs instead, scraping my skin with his teeth. Each time his mouth returned to me my abdomen would tighten just a little more. Scrabbling at his head, moaning into my hand, I chased the rush with piteous desperation. I screwed my eyes shut. The muscles in my pelvis contracted, and I came hard, his tongue still torturing me. 

Brushing the sweat-soaked strands of hair from my eyes, I looked down at him. His mouth was latched onto my upper inner thigh, his hands like claws from where he held me. 

“Copia.” I whispered. 

“Thank you, Sister.” He rasped.

My hand brushed his cheek; his eyes opened. As he moved away he spotted the mark he’d left on my skin, and with a quiet groan dropped his chin to his chest.  
“Forgive me.” He muttered. Arousal was still thick in his voice, but his lips pressed into a tight, grim line. 

Copia lowered my skirt back over my thighs and then grasped my knees, silent for a second. 

“I don’t know why I…” He trailed off, not looking at me. 

“What?” I prompted, keeping my voice as low as his. He chewed his lower lip. Contorted his face. Shook his head slightly.

“I got carried away again.” He uttered. “I don’t… I don’t mean to…” 

He gestured weakly at my lap. I tried to catch his face in my hands but he pulled away quickly, getting to his feet.

“You should go.” He mumbled. 

If that was what he wanted. I shook out my skirts and smoothed down my hair; we shuffled past each other and he stayed standing, looking at me quite wretchedly.   
I quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Copia.” I whispered. “I like it.” 

A flicker of surprise flashed in his features. 

“Thank you.” I smiled, and although he didn’t return it, I could sense he was a little less tense. 

It wasn’t until I’d gotten back to my dorm I realised why he was so worried. Sitting on the bed, I noticed a small bruise on the inside of my knee. Frowning, I rubbed at it; it wasn’t aching like a normal bruise would. When I pulled up my skirt to look at the most recent mark he’d left, I saw the full damage. My skin was littered in love bites, all the way down my inner thighs. I didn’t see them in the darkness of the confessional but now, under the glare of the sunlight falling in through the window, I could see every little individual mark he’d placed on me. Running my hands over them, I shuddered. I’d expected to be pissed off. I wasn’t. 

It was true. I liked it. 

-

A sister had dropped by while I was trying to nap, succeeding in scaring the living daylights out of me by throwing open the door so quickly it banged on the wall. Half asleep, I just nodded as she was telling me that Papa had called for me. 

“He said he needed you as soon as possible - and that he needs black candles.” 

Well. That took any mystery out of the visit. When she left, I slipped my underwear off and left them on my bed - his request for black candles was code for me to do that. Pervert. Though I still popped into the storage cupboard on the floor below to grab some candles just in case - one time, he’d asked for it, I’d turned up ready to get hot and heavy and he actually did need the candles too. 

Idiot.

When I got to his office, he was sitting at the other side of the room to his desk in the seating area, lounging on an armchair with a crystal goblet in hand. He smiled as I came over, depositing the candles on the coffee table by an open bottle of red wine. I made to go over to him but he put up a hand to stop me.

“No, cara. Sit - please.”

He had the same unreadable emotion in his eyes as the last time I saw him. Chewing my lip, I obeyed, settling myself on the couch adjacent to him. 

“You are well?” 

“Yes, Papa.” 

He was being so… formal. I didn’t like it. He downed the rest of his drink and then leaned over to pour himself another, the gentle glug of the bottle filling our silence. 

“Vino?” 

“Uh..” Regarding the bottle of wine, I didn’t recognise it. Probably some good stuff from the reserves. Being a hedonist, Papa only drank the best.

“Sure?”

Papa rose and swept over to a side cabinet to retrieve another goblet, which he set before me. When he sat, he filled it - and though I held out my hand to stop him, he kept going until the dark liquid nearly filled the top. 

Feeling his eyes on me, I shifted uncomfortably. I grabbed the wine and took a sip. It was a little acidic, but mostly fruity. I drank again, gulping a quick, nervous mouthful while I burned under his stare. 

“Good day?” 

“Yeah.” I clutched the chalice in two hands against my chest, trying my best to smile at him. I could not decipher his mood. Papa lounged on the rich brown upholstery of his armchair, and simply smiled back at me.

The ornate clock on the mantle ticked loudly. Outside, the hum of the wind. Papa swirled his wine in the bottom of the glass, and sipped again.

“Is there something you needed, Papa?” I ventured.

“A rush to be somewhere?” He muttered, and I quickly shook my head.

“No, no! I was just wondering, that’s all.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. I drank quickly from the goblet, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. It went down a little too easily. 

“Your knee. It is, ah, bruised.” He remarked, eyeing me over the rim of the goblet as he drank. 

I glanced down. The first little love bite was visible on my right knee. I pulled the hem of my skirts down as nonchalantly as I could, smiling at him weakly. 

“I was thinking your knees would be all bruised by now, yes? You are on them quite often?” 

It was a joke, but there was barely any humour behind it. I shrugged. It was getting hard to control my breathing; the clutches of anxiety had travelled from my stomach and began to snake around my neck.

“Because you see him again.” Papa stated flatly. Pause. I looked up and realised he was waiting for an answer, his eyes boring into me. 

I shrugged. Clucking his tongue, he set the goblet down. 

“No need for this shyness, cara mia. So you run back to him. It is all for a good cause, yes? So, dimmi: what did he tell you this time?” 

I stared at him, heart racing. He smiled, suspiciously sweetly. Sweat trickled down my back. 

“Yes?” 

“Nothing.” I mumbled. 

He feigned shock, eyes widening. 

“Niente?! But this is the whole point. This is why you go.”

“Papa, please.” The anxiety had tightened to a choke hold. “I don’t like this.”

“I do.” He breathed, a wicked glint crossing his face. “You do like him, then?” 

“I guess.” I whispered. My grip on the chalice was threatening to break it. He chuckled darkly. 

“What this time? What did he do?” 

Papa was leaning forward in his chair intently. I didn’t want to talk to him. Instead, I just lifted up my skirt with one hand so he could see the marks.   
He drew in his breath sharply. 

“More?” His hand was reaching to touch but he pulled it away, his lower lip pinned under his teeth. 

“But cara… these are not bruises. They are… ah… come dire… i succhiotti…” 

“Yeah.” I mumbled, lowering the fabric. “Love bites.”

“Love bites! This is it, grazie. But. I don’t understand.” He pulled a face. “Why was his mouth in this place?” 

I groaned. When I glared at him he was feigning innocence, again waiting for me to respond. I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction. We stared it out until he finally broke, shifting to pick up the glass again. 

“Because he ate you, cara?” 

“Stop it.” I whined. “I don’t know what you want.” 

“Want you to tell me. It was good?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” My head was in my hand. “Please, please stop playing these mind games with me. I don’t know what you want.” 

“I want you to tell me this.”

“Tell you what?! Do I need to report back to you everything I did with him? Are you ever gonna fucking tell me if you have a problem with me seeing him?”  
His eyebrows raised at that.

“You think I have a problem?” 

“It’s bloody looking that way. You’re very invested in it, so obviously I’m going to think you’re jealous.” 

He blinked. I downed the rest of the wine, feeling my head starting to spin already. 

“Jealous? Cara, I am interested, semplicemente.” He smiled. “I wish to know how this other man fucks you. How it’s so good you keep going back.” 

“See? I don’t know if you’re pissed at me or not. Just let me know. If you want me to stop seeing him, fucking tell me. If not, tell me you’re not pissed at me. I can’t keep wondering. I only ever started because I thought you said it was okay.” 

I could feel tears prickling in my eyes, threatening to spill, but I fought them back fiercely, staring fixedly at my empty glass. In my periphery, Papa sat for a moment, then rose to his feet once more. The side cabinet opened. He set two bottles of the same wine on the table. Silent, he dug the tooth of a corkscrew into the top of one and twisted it out lazily, easing it this way and that for what felt like an eternity until it finally popped. He did the other one at the same burningly slow pace. Looking at me, expressionless, he came over to fill my cup again, then his, then sat. He sipped. 

“So he was good when he ate you, yes?” 

I practically inhaled the wine. When I finished swallowing only a small drop remained. He dutifully leaned over to fill it up again when I smacked the crystal glass onto the coffee table to glare at him. 

“Answer me, Papa.” 

He tutted, lounging back again.

“I ask you this first.” 

“I’m not fucking saying anything until you tell me what’s going on. You’re not being fair.” Already swimming slightly with the alcohol, the last sentence came out with a rather childish whine. He giggled, knocking back some of his own.

“Perhaps I will not say until you say to me?”

“I am not. Telling. You.” 

A knock. Slowly, I looked up at Papa. He swallowed his mouthful of wine and smiled.

“No worries, mia amore. He can tell me himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.
> 
> See you next Friday!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa has a question for the Cardinal.

I shot to my feet, and immediately felt dizzy as the room lurched. Every fibre of my being was screaming in horror. No. No fucking way. He hadn’t. 

“Vieni dentro!” Papa called.

I spun. The door opened. 

The Cardinal looked just as shocked as I was, filling the small gap of the doorway where he peeked inside. His eyes shot from me, to Papa, then back again. Papa was already on his feet, gathering another glass.

“Sit, sit!” He called. “Never mind this Sister, Cardinal. She is just, ah, with me for a drink.”

By the time Copia had forced himself over to perch on the armchair facing Papa’s, Papa had already set the glass on the table in front of it and filled it up. Copia looked down at it with the same amount of horror as a king being served a potentially poisoned meal. Reclining, Papa took an exaggerated drink and smacked his lips together.

“Sister, sit. Cardinal, this wine is good.” 

I’d forgotten I was still standing. Collapsing onto the seat made me dizzy again; I just held my breath, watching Copia nervously pick up the goblet.

“I… I’m not much of a drinker.” He muttered, barely audible. Papa tutted.

“This is good wine. You drink it, and see.” 

His tongue flickered between his lips, but after a second, he obediently took a mouthful. Nodding, he set the glass back down. We could hear him swallow hard. 

“No cassock?” Papa remarked.

He was dressed in white today, and clearly felt uncomfortable, twisting his hands in his lap. He shook his head and mumbled something of an apology; the pure white of his suit made his flush positively crimson in comparison. 

“You worry. No worries. I do not wear the chasuble. Gets in the way. Drink, Cardinal.” 

Copia finally glanced over at me. The terror was evident in his eyes. Reaching for the goblet, he drank deep. As soon as he set it back down Papa was up, ambling over to fill it up even though there was still wine left in it. Copia actually flinched as he came over, his hands squeezing together. 

“Is… everything okay…?” Copia muttered. Panic bloomed on his face and he cleared this throat. “ - Your Dark Excellency?” 

“Your Dark Excellency.” Papa parroted, dissolving into giggles as he sat back down. Copia winced. I began to chew my thumbnail. If I made a run for the door, would Papa come after me? I wouldn’t put it past him, actually. It was frighteningly easy to imagine him rugby-tackling me to the floor just to keep the game going. 

“All good, Cardinal.” Papa smiled. “Just a, uh, meeting. A quick ketchup.”

“Catch up.” I mumbled into my hand.

“Catch up. Grazie, Sister.” 

Copia looked over at me, then back at Papa. He reached for the goblet, hovering it near his face.

“Catch up?” He whispered.

“Yes! Not serious. A few domandi - questions, I think.” Papa’s smile was sweet. Suspiciously so.

“Do you like to eat the Sister?” 

Copia was halfway through a mouthful. He choked, slamming his hand over his mouth to stop his coughing fit spraying us with wine. When I went to stare at Papa in dismay, he was biting back a smile, watching Copia with clear satisfaction.

“F-Forgive me.” The Cardinal gasped, wheezing as he caught his breath. “Wh-what?” 

“The Sister.” He gestured at me with a wave of his white glove while I dropped my face into my hand, groaning. “Do you like to eat her?” 

I looked at Copia through my fingers. A rat in a trap. With wide eyes, he stared at us both.

“I’m…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

“Mm. You do.” Papa laughed, sipping his wine jovially as if this was a normal and pleasant conversation, and not one that I would rather be crucified than have to partake in. 

“Sister, lift up your habit, yes? You see, Cardinal, lots of bruise. And not by me.” 

I snatched the habit back down and looked resolutely at the floor. I could feel Copia staring at me. Fuck. /Fuck/.

“She has good skin - bella - but I don’t ever leave the bruise like this. So it must have been you.” He continued conversationally. 

“Drink, Cardinal.”

Copia obeyed. I studied the wood panelling below us. I could see the feet of both men; Papa with his legs crossed, relaxed as anything, and Copia, his shoes planted on the floor. They began to shake. I heard more wine being poured out and peeked up. While Papa was busy refilling his glass, Copia dared shoot me an exasperated look. He had gone past red, now. All the colour was drained from his face. He looked like a man about to face a shooting gallery. 

“Why this face, you two?” Papa scoffed. “So serious, so scared. You think I’m angry?” 

Neither of us moved. Papa stared at Copia pointedly, his eyes flickering down once at the goblet. On cue, Copia snatched it up and drank quickly.

“I knew about this.” Papa mused, looking at the wine in his own cup. “I find this out and at first, yes, quite angry. But then I sit and think… I think, lust is a sin. A big sin. Celebrated here. It is a good thing the Sister likes this sin.” Papa’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. “And you did not know the, ah, relationship with me and the Sister.” 

Copia shook his head minutely. His hands were trembling. 

“But…”

Copia’s eyes closed; his jaw clenched. 

“...perhaps I am some jealous. Only some.” Papa glanced at me. 

“But I understand, cara. The Cardinal - quite attractive, yes?” 

What the fuck. 

I just stared at him. Papa smirked, and shrugged a little.

“You think this, chiaramente. You enjoy him.” 

Leaning back, smiling evenly, Papa swirled his wine a few times, his eyes wandering over to Copia again. 

“Show me how you eat her, Cardinal.”

Silence.

Copia blinked a few times. Papa drank, savouring the mouthful before swallowing it, not really looking at either of us. 

“What?” I rasped.

“I want to see.” Papa shrugged. “Show me.” 

Copia sat statue-still, eyes wide, jaw hanging open. After a long moment he swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. 

“She is not wearing anything under, you know.” Papa winked, and I wanted to die there and then. I squeezed my thighs together, cheeks blazing. Copia looked from me, then to him, in amazement. 

“You don’t have to do this, of course.” Papa’s eyes flickered over the Cardinal. “But… your Papa has asked you to do something… you did take vows, yes?” 

Nodding a little, Copia shakily reached for the goblet, finishing his drink with some noisy gulps. He stared down at his hands when he was done. 

“Papa…?” I whispered. When his eyes met mine, I could see the lust darkening them. My skin was hot. I looked over at Copia, and then at Papa, and I entertained the thought for a /second/ of Copia on me while Papa was watching - and a dam of arousal burst in my body. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the fear. But I was suddenly struggling to catch my breath or even look at either of them, shifting my weight about on the sofa as the space between my thighs began to throb into life. 

Copia eyed me warily. He glanced over at Papa.

Slowly, he took off his gloves. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

There was no way Copia was getting up from the chair - hesitantly, but yes, definitely doing it - and coming over to me. Dropping to his knees. Looking over at Papa, who nodded enthusiastically. Gingerly, he leaned his face towards mine, eyes searching me. He pulled back and then shook his head, exhaling shakily. 

Then, with resolve, he pressed his lips to mine. 

I was ultra conscious of the fact that Papa was watching us intently. Slowly, I reached up to cup Copia’s chin, and deepened the kiss. To my left, Papa breathed harder, saying nothing.

“Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” I mumbled into the Cardinal’s lips, but he only kissed me harder in response, daring to brush his tongue into my mouth. Gasping, my fingers fisted into his hair; I was dimly aware of his cool hands sliding up my thighs, pushing my habit with it. 

“Take it off her.” Papa said, quietly. Copia broke away, his breath rasping, and did as he was told; I raised my arms and sat up a little so he could slide it off over my head. I was just in my bra, seated on the couch with the Cardinal kneeling before me and Papa sitting adjacent, watching us. When Copia kissed me again I heard Papa grunt in approval, and the sound of more wine being poured. 

My legs spread involuntarily. He pulled away again to push his fingers into his mouth, apparently emboldened by the alcohol. I shuddered, watching them disappear between his lips and out again, moving down to press them against me. He paused. I was embarrassingly wet. His fingers slid down and into me in a smooth motion, and I buckled forward, biting my cheek to stop myself from moaning at the coolness of his fingers buried inside my overheated skin. His lips met mine again, the press of his tongue into my mouth muffling my whimpers as he crooked his fingers. Beside me, heavy breathing, rustling fabric. 

Copia teased me like that for a while. Head swimming from the wine, mind racing over the bizarre situation I was in, I focused completely on the feeling of his fingers sliding deliberately in and out of me. He paused to scissor them every now and then; at one point, he crooked them again, and my breath hitched in my throat at the flurry of tingles that raced through my abdomen as he brushed my g-spot. 

“Bene.” Papa mumbled. “Bene, bene. Taste her.” 

Fingers gone. Lips gone. He was sucking them, eyes closed. I could only watch, jaw agape, anxiety and arousal swirling around my veins in a confusing cocktail. I could feel Papa’s eyes boring into me; I couldn’t look at him.

“This bruise.” Papa continued, voice low. “So many. Poor Sister.” 

Copia lightly traced his palms up my thighs, looking at the marks, chewing his lip. When he looked up at me I did my best to smile at him, but it was difficult. I felt sick. This was an entirely alien situation, and I didn’t feel exactly comfortable in my own skin. But I was also debilitatingly turned on, and I really couldn’t stop staring at his lips. His lower lip in particular was so plump, and now red and swollen from being bitten at. 

Like he’d read my mind, Papa spoke again. 

“Kiss this better, Cardinal.” 

I fell back. Copia spread my legs further and held them up, obediently placing careful kisses onto each of the love bites. I squirmed, whimpering harder with each touch of his soft lips, each scratch of his whiskers. Papa tutted. 

“Cara mia, so needing. I see how wet you are from here.” He rasped. “Perhaps you fix this, Cardinal.” 

A flash of trepidation in Copia’s eyes. His cheek came to my thigh, lightly scrubbing his sideburn into it, eyes flickering about the room. My hand trailed over his hair as I tried to steady my breathing, slow down my heart. Absentmindedly, I glanced over at Papa; he was on the edge of his seat, face propped up by his hand to watch. When I looked down Copia’s mismatched eyes stared up at me from between my knees. He had not moved.

It dawned on me quite slowly; he was waiting for permission. 

Over all of this - over all this fucking weirdness and confusion and chaos - my heart twinged with fondness for him. I ran my hands all over his face, too far gone to even speak. I remembered to nod my head, and at that he moved himself closer.

My sharp inhale as his tongue touched me was matched by Papa, whos breathing had become erratic. Copia screwed his eyes shut, and after a few self-conscious seconds he got lost in what he was doing. All too soon I was fisting his hair, tugging his mouth to where I needed it; tipsy, his movements were quite sloppy but enthusiastic - wet smacking noises came each time he pulled away momentarily and broke the suction on my skin. Breathing hard, he teased at my clit with the pointed tip of his tongue while I writhed and sobbed, begging him quietly for more. When my nails raked his scalp he groaned and sucked my clit hard; convulsing, my thighs tightened around his head. I wasn’t aware of how much noise I was making. I’d all but forgotten where we even were. I just stared down at him, at his hungry eyes that occasionally opened to gaze at me, at his hands gripping my thighs so tight his knuckles were white. 

The couch beside me sagged. A quick ‘oh!’ was all I could manage before a gloved hand turned my face to the side and Papa crashed his lips onto mine, his tongue dominating my own. His hand snaked under my bra to caress my chest. Copia faltered for a moment, but then carried on, humming slightly. The vibrations had me groaning; the wave was rising, and Papa had grabbed my jaw so he could keep me in place - all I could do was try to keep breathing as he kissed me with scathing hunger. One hand on Copia’s head, I reached over blindly and groped for Papa’s thigh, then felt around his crotch for his cock, hard under the fabric. He hissed into my mouth when I squeezed it. 

“I’m gonna -” I whimpered. Already bordering on pain from the zealous overstimulation, my legs kicked against Copia’s restraint as my gut tightened. Papa smirked into my skin, rambling hoarsely something in Italian I had no hope of deciphering. I wanted to look down at Copia to get him to slow down but Papa held me fast, tutting at me, chuckling darkly. 

It was too much. When I came I bucked uncontrollably, back arching up off the couch, but both men held me where they wanted me, forcing me to twitch and spasm through the shocks wracking my system. Papa pressed his mouth over mine again to muffle my cries; I panted against his lips, the oxygen deprivation making it even harder to come down. 

Planting a final kiss to my lips, Papa stood. Copia was somewhere between my legs, still nuzzling at my skin. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, gasping. What the fuck just happened? 

Dimly, I heard the buzz of Papa’s voice, and Copia’s warmth left me. Peeking out from under my fingers, I saw Papa had his hand on the Cardinal’s shoulder.

“Bene.” He rasped. “Good for you, Cardinal?”

His flush was back, but he nodded anyway, unable to tear his eyes away from Papa’s. I knew that feeling. 

Then, Papa leaned in and kissed him. 

Too tired to move, I just watched it happen in disbelief. Copia took a step back but Papa’s hands were on his biceps, pulling him back over. After a beat, Copia’s tongue tentatively swept over Papa’s lip; he growled in response and deepened the kiss, gloved hands tight in his hair while the Cardinal stood, trembling. 

Deftly, a white gloved hand snaked down Copia’s neck, his front, his midriff, all the way down to his crotch. Papa sized him up through his pants, eyebrows raising. When he squeezed, Copia jumped, and Papa laughed deviously. 

Papa pulled away, eyes closed, breathing slowly. He opened his eyes and smirked.

“Grazie for your time, Cardinal. Again soon, perhaps?” 

He lightly patted Copia’s cheek and abandoned him, kneeling on the couch beside me; the look in his eye telling me he wasn’t planning on letting me leave with him.   
Copia’s hand dragged over his mouth, wiping the slickness from his chin. He watched Papa flip me onto my front; I just drove my face into a pillow, unable to process the chaotic combination of feelings raging in my stomach. The scent of old incense choked my sinuses as I scrubbed my face into the fabric. I couldn’t look at anyone right now. 

“Buonasera, Cardinal.” I heard Papa call, and then dithering footsteps, fading away until the door opened and closed. 

Gloved hands roamed hungrily over my back and waist. Papa’s knee came between my thighs to separate them, and he got into position behind me. 

“Cara…” He whispered. “Mia amore…” 

“I’m fine.” I mumbled, trying to still my racing heart. “I’m fine.”

The events kept replaying in my head. It was awkward, and alien, and I had never felt so exposed in my life… but I couldn’t deny that it was really fucking hot. I kept my face hidden so Papa couldn’t see how red I was, and to keep my panting to a minimum. The more I thought about it the more my blood pounded in my temples.

“You are sure?” He muttered.

I managed to nod; his fly unzipped, and he pressed one hand to my ass, the other guiding himself inside of me.

“Fuck.” He moaned, breathless. “Così bagnata. You like him.” 

“Shut up.” I mumbled. I was planning on letting him use me like this, get his rocks off as quickly as possible so I could go to bed and try and process everything, but a few seconds later his weight shifted; his clothed chest brushing against my back. His now bare fingers were travelling down to rub at my clit - so clever, so deft - always knowing exactly where to go, and how much pressure to use. Whining, my body shuddered but he held fast, rubbing in quick circles while he thrust into me. 

“You are going to come for me? Like for him?” A smattering of desperate kisses on my shoulder, his breath on my skin. Turning my cheek, I huffed in some fresh air, feeling my abdomen start to clench. 

“He - he ate you so well.” Papa moaned. “He likes you.”

“Papa - ” I broke into a hiss as his thrusts got rougher, the steady climb inside of me intensifying. 

“Era… he was… big…” Despite being breathless from his exertion, he still was able to giggle, the sound rumbling against my flesh. “...I wanted…” A strangled noise fell from his throat and I felt his forehead press into my hot back, him gasping on my spine. “... to see it…” 

My body shattered; I rocked my hips back onto him, groaning low in my throat, too exhausted to even move properly. Fingers curling into the sofa, my face jolting against the pillow from getting fucked, I lay there and waited for him to come too. 

“Might not be into guys.” I mumbled.

“N-no! He… he kiss me…his tongue...” That sent him over the edge. Thrusting as hard as he could, he came - loud, wanton moans spilling from his mouth. He slumped slightly as he caught his breath, one hand travelling over my back tenderly. 

“Va bene, cara mia?”

“Yeah. Fine.” 

I remained curled up on the sofa when he pulled out, closing my eyes. Fussing, Papa scooped me up in his arms and carried me into his quarters through the door that joined them to his office. Settling me on the bed, he meandered into the bathroom, where I heard the rush of the shower. 

“Does this mean I can keep seeing him, Papa?” I called softly. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes flickering over me, a small smile on his painted lips. 

“Forse. Maybe.” Ambling over, he knelt before me, reaching to stroke my hair. 

“You promise me something?” 

I sat up, heart beginning to pound. He looked quite serious - his lips pressed together, his brow knitted - and my mind was immediately rife with possibilities. 

“Yes?” I whispered. Papa reached out and picked up my hand, clasping it between his own solemnly. 

“If he sends you naughty pictures, you send them to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading!! c: leave a comment and lemme know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister apologises to the Cardinal. Imperator needs to talk to the Sister.

“I’m so sorry, Copia.” I whispered, gazing up at him. 

At first, I had not been able to get him to look at me properly. He’d answered his office door and regarded me with the same level of anxiety as when we had first met.   
He’d sank into his chair and said nothing, no matter how much I wheedled. I ended up falling to his feet to beg for forgiveness, playing up a woebegone character. No luck. He’d barely glanced down at me, blushing bright. 

Last resort. I pinned back my hair, staying quiet for long enough that he couldn’t resist looking to see what I was doing. One by one, I unbuttoned my shirt until my bra was showing. Then, I rested my chin on his knee, staring up at him. 

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered again. He hadn’t stopped looking, now, but he hadn’t said anything, either.

“I should have told you.” 

He grunted at that. Progress of its own kind, I guess. I rested my palm on his thigh.

“Are you really mad at me?” 

He shrugged, his hands twisting together in his lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t. I don’t know how all of this happened. I just… like you a lot.” I muttered, feeling my own blush beginning to form. 

His eyes widened; tongue flickered between his lips. 

“Right.” 

“Yeah.” My fingertip was tracing circles into his leg; his intense stare flitted between its lazy little path on his trousers, to my face. 

“What did you think? Of… well, the thing in Papa’s office?” 

He squirmed in his seat, lips pressing together. He shrugged. 

“Well?”

Humming nervously, he looked away from me altogether. He wove his fingers together and clenched them into a fist, leg beginning to bounce.

“I know what it’s like to be with Papa. Obviously.” I shrugged a little, casting my eyes downwards. “He has a certain… aura. There’s something about him. You think?” 

The Cardinal huffed out a breath but stayed silent. I fell quiet for a moment too, lightly scratching my nail over the fabric until he shivered. 

“Did you like it, Copia? Doing that to me in front of him?”

My finger continued its journey up his leg until it traced over the growing bulge in his crotch. I smirked.

“You did, didn’t you?” 

Shrugged again. Still not looking at me. I shifted on my knees so I could push myself between his thighs, rubbing at his cock slowly. His eyes closed, his brow furrowing harder.

“It was weird but it was good.” I added. He had thickened under my touch; I could sort of wrap my fingers around him, stroking him through the fabric. Exhaling slowly, Copia sank back in the chair, hands gripping the armrests. I took the chance to unzip his fly and slip my hand inside; his skin was hot with blood, and steadily getting harder. 

“You forgive me, Copia?” I looked up at him as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock. A small moan; his hand came to his mouth to stifle it. 

“Please?” I tugged him free, running my hand up and down his length as I stared at him, waiting for an answer. 

He opened his eyes again, chin dropping to watch me, lips parted. He must have saw how close my face was to his cock because he suddenly groaned quietly, nodding.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Yes.” 

I dragged my tongue from the base to the tip; his face twisted and he tilted his head, watching my movements intently, breathing hard. I remembered from last time how sensitive his head was and focused on that for a few moments, slowly swirling my tongue around it while he shuddered and whined quietly.

The joints of my jaw were burning already from trying to accommodate his thickness. Pulling back, I licked and kissed my way up and down the sides, coating it with saliva, before trying to suck it into my mouth properly.

My eyes closed to concentrate. Copia shifted about, his cock throbbing against my tongue; I felt a shaky hand thread into my hair. Gingerly, he pushed my head down.

Tears were already streaming down my cheeks and I gagged immediately, tearing away to compose myself. 

“S-sorry.” He whispered. 

“It’s okay. Give me a minute.” One hand still stroking him, I wiped my face clean and huffed in a deep breath. 

“You… you don’t have to -“ He broke into a moan as I pushed him back between my lips. I worked my way down slowly, eyes closed, bobbing back and then forward little by little until he completely filled my mouth - but when I looked up at him, I still only had about half of him in. He didn’t seem to mind - he was gazing down at me with wonderment, breath coming in short bursts between his parted lips. 

Just as I closed my eyes to try again, the door opened.

Copia snapped forward to push me away and cover himself; in my blind dumb panic I just hid behind the desk as best I could, heartbeat banging in my ears like a drum. I pressed my cheek to the cold wood of the desk. Beside me, Copia was hurriedly - and indiscreetly - trying to shove himself back into his pants. When he finally looked up at the intruder, his flush deepened.

“Y-your Dark Excellency?”

“Buongiorno, Cardinal.”

A moan escaped my lips. I heard footsteps and then he was there, staring down at me, hands behind his back. 

“Ciao, cara mia.”

“Hey, Papa.” I squeaked, awkwardly pulling the two halves of my open shirt together. He leaned against the desk, pushing his hair back. I noticed he wasn’t wearing any gloves. The light coming from the window made the white of his face paint glow - he looked almost ethereal, smiling down at me.

“I come to give you the gloves, Cardinal - you leave them in my office.” He tossed them onto Copia’s desk, looking between the two of us. “Having fun?”

I shrugged, a lump rising in my throat. His eyes were fixed on me. I was suddenly reminded of being caught by Sister Imperator drawing a particularly unflattering portrait of her when I was a junior. I felt my lower lip jut, and he laughed, squatting down to my level. He pressed a brisk kiss to my mouth, cupping my face in his hands for a second while he smirked.

“What were you doing, hm?”

I licked my lips. The Cardinal was still and silent somewhere beside me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d died from the embarrassment there and then. 

“Shining his shoes.” I joked, my voice shaking. Papa laughed heartily at that, his voice filling the room. 

“With your mouth, cara?” He giggled, finally tearing his eyes away to look up at Copia, who had his head in his hand, completely crimson from the neck up. 

“No need for this, Cardinal.” Papa smiled. Copia didn’t react, and Papa got comfortable, sitting on the floor next to me. 

I stared at him. He gazed up at the Cardinal with shining eyes, lower lip pinned by his teeth. I could hear his breath quaking a little.

“Not often I am on my, ah, knees, these days.” His hand slid to touch my leg, rubbing it gently. “Except for her.”

I was unbelievably conscious of the fact I could still taste the salt of precum, and that Papa probably had too when he kissed me. Papa tutted, pouting.

“Cardinal, relax.” His hand crept up onto his thigh, making Copia jolt and exhale sharply, brow furrowed under his hand. Papa’s eyebrow raised as he ran his hand up and down his leg, squeezing. 

“Grande.” He remarked. “Bene.”

I hugged my knees to my chest, watching this in fascination. Smirking, the hand moved further until it pressed against his cock, hastily shoved back under the fabric, a wet patch pooling. Copia moved his hand to his mouth, eyes screwed shut.

“Grande, also.” Papa smirked. “My sorry that I… interrupt this. I’ll make it up to you?” 

Copia stared down at him.

“Wh-what?” 

“Make it up to you.” He repeated, patiently. “Cara mia won’t mind. This is, ah, fair, yes?”

I shrugged, shooting him a quick smile. Seemed fair enough to me. My jaw was still creaking in complaint, anyway. 

“I… I... don’t know…” The Cardinal mumbled, flashing me a look. I could see the conflict he was experiencing. Perhaps he didn’t want to give himself so willingly to Papa, but his body was clearing betraying him; his eyes fluttered closed again as Papa began to massage him, other hand toying with his half-undone zip. A strangled noise escaped his throat and he gnawed at his knuckle, shaking his head slightly as he watched Papa’s hand stroke him. 

“You say stop, I stop.” When he didn’t get a reply, Papa leaned down and nipped at his thigh; Copia jolted and nodded quickly, covering his face again. 

The zipper came down. I watched Papa’s pale hand reach in to take him out again. His cock was still hard, still leaking. With a smirk, Papa wrapped his hand around the base.

“Grande.” He nodded once. A bead of precum collected on the tip - he leaned in and licked it away, the tip of his tongue tracing along the slit. Moaning with delight, he kissed it, looking up at him. Copia’s mouth was open, breathing quickly; with a grin, Papa pressed the flat of his tongue on the underside of his cock and moved his head up and down, letting it glide against his tongue and lips. Sucking, he swirled his tongue over the tip and pulled back with a pop, smirking to himself. Hand stroking at the base, Papa tilted his head, watching the Cardinal carefully. 

“Good for you, caro?”

A slight nod. Papa opened his mouth again, and lightly tapped Copia’s head against his tongue a few times. His eyes flashed over to me briefly - he smirked, and then looked back up at him.

“Look at me?”

He didn’t. Papa shrugged, and licked his lips.

I watched, enraptured, as Papa pushed his cock into his mouth, effortlessly swallowing down, his head lowering and lowering until his nose pressed into the wiry curls at the base. He paused like that for a moment, and then his cheeks hollowed.

“J-Jesus Christ -” Copia hissed, lowering his shaky hand to the armrest. Papa snatched it up and put it on his head, pulling back slowly, whistling in his breath quickly.  
“Nah, not him.” He giggled, wet tongue slicking his swollen lips. “Keep your hand like this, Cardinal. This is my sorry. Use me.”

Fucking hell. Shifting my weight around on the floor,I rested my chin on my knees and watched them both - Papa, gazing up at Copia like a love (or lust) struck fool, his pink tongue tracing over the needy flesh, Copia only daring to meet his eyes in short bursts, panting weakly in his attempt to keep it together. Papa glanced over at me again before he swallowed him back down, his throat contracting, and then waited.

I saw Copia’s fingers tighten ever so slightly in the black hair. Papa did nothing, just looking up at him.

Hesitantly, Copia pushed him back, and then pulled him forward, watching Papa’s lips drag over his thick cock. 

After a few strokes, Copia’s other hand came under his jaw for purchase, controlling the bob of his head as he rocked his hips into his mouth. Papa hummed, eyes fixed up at him. Copia’s grip grew tighter and tighter until he was practically dragging his head back and forth, growling deep in his chest as he fucked his throat. 

Papa undid his pants and moaned whorishly as he touched himself, eyes rolling. I could feel the heat between my legs too, but I was too invested to do anything about it; I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them both.

Copia had lost it, violently thrusting into Papa’s throat so hard tears were running over his painted cheeks, a pool of drool dripping down his chin. I saw the pink of his tongue lazily a swirl out whenever he reached the base, twirling it down over his balls. 

“Fuck - fuck! -“ Copia gasped, practically whimpering. “Belial - oh, fuck -“

Despite having a cock stuffed down his throat, Papa still managed to smirk, eyebrow raising. His own dick was gripped tightly in his fist, the tip disappearing and reappearing as he stroked it quickly. Copia’s hand landed on Papa’s forehead, trying to move him off with little luck.

“S-stop -“ Copia hissed through his teeth. “I-I’m gonna-“

Papa pulled away entirely, panting, while he wiped the saliva dripping from his chin. 

“You come in my mouth.” He whispered hoarsely. 

When Copia shook his head, Papa grabbed his thigh tight.

“Fucking do this, Cardinal.” He rasped, and sucked him back into his mouth. 

I was able to watch as he fell apart. His face red, jaw hanging open, he groaned as he pushed himself fully between Papa’s lips, crushing his face against his abdomen. A series of slurred expletives spilled from him as his hips snapped and shuddered, riding it out in his throat. Papa moaned too, so low he was almost growling, hand working quickly over himself. A drip of come and spit spilled from the corner of his mouth and he surfaced, gasping, brow knitting, stroking himself desperately, reaching up to keep milking Copia’s cock into his mouth. Once more, he looked over at me - taking in my spellbound, flushed expression - and then he groaned, ropes of come spurting over his fist and onto the floor. 

I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. I felt absolutely scandalised - like I should not have been able to watch their little act. Like I was intruding. It was a weird, thrilling feeling… was this what Papa felt when he’d watched us a few days prior? 

Copia couldn’t look at Papa or myself, hand back over his face again. I pulled open a drawer and took some tissues from a box I knew he kept in there, handing them over to Papa with a smile - he beamed back at me, wiping off his hand and the floor and pushing himself back into his pants. 

Head tilting, he glanced up at Copia. 

“Va bene?” He quizzed, screwing the tissues into his palm. Copia just nodded, and Papa giggled quietly. 

“It has been a while since I do this, cara mia - but looks like I’m still the best.” He gloated, pulling me over to him to wrap his arms around me. He peppered kisses all over my face while I shrieked.

“Gross! Get your blowjob lips off me, idiot.” I scolded, but I was laughing, clinging onto him for a second just to feel his body on mine before he rose to his feet and regarded us both again. 

“Again soon, yes?” 

I nodded quickly, but Copia didn’t move. Papa laughed heartily and expertly threw the bundle of tissues into the wastepaper bin, whistling jovially as he left. 

I looked up at Copia after he’d gone, and without Papa’s all-encompassing presence the room was silent enough that I could hear how shaky his breath was. 

“Are you okay?” I whispered. He didn’t reply. My gut twisted; I stood up, perching on the edge of the desk. 

“Copia?” 

“Why did he do that?” He rasped, not even looking at me from under his fingers. I couldn’t see his eyes - just his lips, parted, swollen. 

“Because he likes you?” I prompted, and Copia shook his head a little, lips pressing together tightly. 

“It’s… It’s our Dark Excellence.” He mumbled. “It’s Papa. Papa.”

“Yes.” I replied patiently. “It’s Papa.”

“And he just…” His other hand gestured loosely to his lap, the visible skin of his face turning beetroot red. 

“Like I said, he likes you. Like I do.” I shrugged, kicking my feet slightly. His lower lip was pinned below his teeth; I sighed. 

“Did you enjoy it?” 

His fingers parted, those mismatched eyes peeping between them. 

“Did you?”

The tiniest nod. I broke into a smile. 

“Then what are you worrying about?” 

Finally, his hand came down to rest on the arm of the chair, but his head still dipped towards his chest. 

“I don’t know how to explain.” He said, quietly, and I instantly reached to grasp his hand in my own.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” 

Copia looked down at our clasped hands, silent, then curled his fingers around my hand a little tighter. 

“Thank you, Sister.” He mumbled.

Eyes closing, his head tipped forward slightly when I leaned down to kiss his forehead, mumbling another reassurance into his skin. 

-

No matter how old I was and no matter how many times it had happened, getting called to Sister Imperator’s office still struck ice in my veins. It didn’t help that it was such a long trek, in the older parts of the abbey near where Papa Nihil would be found in his own creaky rooms. Outside the door, a pew lined the opposing wall; surprisingly devoid of any other troublemakers. Ambling over, I went to knock but heard her terse voice speaking quickly inside; instead, I collapsed down onto the pew and made sure my habit was straight. I was still wearing the cowl and veil due to the mark that was fading at a worryingly slow pace, and had began wearing opaque black tights to cover up my thighs. A few other Senior Sisters had actually made some snarky comments about me showing so little skin these days. 

I had sat here so many times - even when I was tiny, my feet kicking high above the floor. It never lead to anything good; Imperator was the main disciplinarian of our little church, whipping both Sisters and ghouls into shape. 

The wait became nausea-inducing within a few minutes of sitting in the absolute silence, the cloying scent of floor polish refusing to dissipate. Inside she carried on, and on, and on, leaving me to sweat over whatever it was I’d done now. Was it work? I’d been carrying out church duties whenever I could, but had also been doing an elaborate trade system with other Sisters to ensure I had as much free time as possible to spend with the two men in my life. Papa was easier to accommodate - tell any clergy member that Papa needed me for something and they’d have to let me go, and I could count on him to vouch for me if someone came to him to double check. Copia was different; I could go days without seeing him, and each one that passed sometimes felt like a lifetime. Many nights I’d lain awake thinking of him, wondering if it was just at all possible for me to slip out of my dorm and head down - I’d done it once before, right?

But then again, sitting outside of Imperator’s office was like waiting for execution. She made it slow, and painful, and I didn’t have a good enough reason to be loitering around the library at two in the morning - what was I supposed to tell her if I got caught, that I was doing some extra studying? She’d take one look at my school record and burn me at the stake for lying. 

The door finally opened and a fire ghoul swanned out - and he wasn’t wearing his mask, instead holding it under his arm like a football. His eyebrows raised when he saw me and he broke into a wicked little grin. 

“I told you to put that mask on!” Imperator called from inside, and he rolled his pale green eyes and laughed.

“Such a slut, aren’t I? No mask on in front of a Sister.” He tutted, picking it up in his right hand. With his left, he combed his unruly ginger hair back over his head, claws barely missing the two ram-like horns that emerged from his forehead, and slid the mask on. He moved it about a few times until it settled and then looked at me again, eyes shining, tail flicking. 

“Have fun. Good luck.” He called, then tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled off.

Imperator had come to the door to watch him leave, a deep frown creasing her face.

“Those fire ghouls. They tend to be the worst out of the lot but that one in particular -” She drew in a breath and glanced at me, then again, like she’d only just noticed I was there.

“Sister?” 

“Good afternoon, Sister Imperator.” I chirped, cringing inside as a I forced a smile. To my relief her expression softened somewhat, and she gestured me inside.   
Perched on one of the chairs facing her desk, I waited for her to sit herself, and to speak. She took her time; sliding on her glasses and riffling through a well-thumbed notebook on her desk. I looked around in the meantime - the windows were tall, and south-facing, so the little sun we got bathed the rugs on the floor in pools. She had quite a few plants here and there, hanging up, on shelves, and pictures - pictures of her and Nihil, mostly. 

“Let’s see… ah, yes. Now, Sister, I brought you here today as your duties will change this coming Friday.”

I actually sagged back in the chair for a second before correcting my posture and grinning at her, delirious with relief. 

“Of course, Sister! What do you need from me?” 

“We’re planning a Blood Moon ritual that evening. Impromptu. I’ve selected you to assist.” 

Alright. I didn’t mind ritual work. A few hours of chanting and incense waving and it was over. Moon rituals were especially good as they usually indicated food. And in this case, red wine. 

“What will Papa need prepared for the altar?” 

Her eyes flashed up at me over the top of her glasses.

“Ah, Papa Emeritus the Third is occupied that night. The Cardinal will perform the ritual. You’ve met him, yes?” 

Understatement. I prayed my cheeks wouldn’t betray me.

“Yes, Sister. I took him to his office.”

“I thought I remembered as much. He’s quite a… introverted character. I don’t feel having too many people he isn’t familiar with would be wise. Even if you did only accompany him for a short period, it’s better than nothing.”

“I actually have been taking extra Latin lessons from him, Sister.” I offered, to which she smiled softly, settling back in her comfortable chair.

“Excellent. You are more than acquainted then. How have you been finding him?”

I bit my lip, feeling a bout of giggles rising up. Holy fuck. 

“He’s very good at it, Sister. A little hesitant to begin with, but then nothing but enthusiasm when he’s in the zone.”

“I thought as much.” She nodded, silver hair glistening under the sunlight. “One of the best in the country at what he does.”

“I can say from experience he definitely ain’t half bad.” Fingers interlocked, I dug my thumbnail into my palm, feet starting to tap on the floor. She just smiled at me, placidly, and it only made it worse. 

“What sort of activities have you been up to?” 

“Oh, this and that.” I couldn’t help myself. “If I’m honest, he’s mostly been testing my oral skills.” 

“Wonderful! It can be a hard thing to wrap your mouth around, certainly.” Oh, Lucifer below, I was actually going to explode. She leaned forward slightly, bracing herself against the desk with her elbows.

“If it makes you feel any better, Sister, I had great difficulty with correcting my mouth shapes when I was about your age. You can fall into a habit, and continue on with the incorrect shapes, and do a sloppy job. It can be hard to train yourself out of it but it is possible, and the reward is clear - an excellent oral talent.” 

My lips were trembling. I pressed them together and nodded quickly. 

“Latin is a hard language, Sister Imperator, but he’s definitely helping me with it - it’s a long, hard, slow process but I’m sure we’ll reach a happy ending.” 

“Wonderful. So, briefly - ritual candles, incense and dress for Friday. Nine o’clock prompt.”

I just nodded and got to my feet, unable to look at her properly. She gushed on about what Friday would hold while I tried my best not to start sobbing with childish laughter right in front of her. After an eternity, she dismissed me. I kept a stony face, marching to the door and pulling it half-open.

“Oh, Sister?”

I looked over my shoulder at her. The sunlight around her made her glow, almost giving her a halo effect among the cobble walls. She brandished a pen at me and smiled.

“Keep up the practice. In fact, perhaps ask him for more - you can never get enough, you know.”

I nodded once, expression stoic.

“On your command, Sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! à vendredi c:


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister prepares for the Blood Ritual. Sort of.

Maybe it was the sheer amount of books and paper in there acting as insulation, but at the slightest sign of good weather the temperature of the library would skyrocket. The rest of the abbey remained pleasantly cool, the stone walls chilling the air. Today we had our first bout of true, warm, radiant sunshine in days. Outside, it was break time; junior Sisters dashed about in gaggles, senior Sisters seated on benches studying or talking. No doubt the majority of Ghouls were running riot in the lush forest that shielded the abbey from the outside world.

Personally, I wasn’t a fan of heat. Although I grumbled about the frigid winter air that permeated the abbey hallways, it was always possible to put on an extra layer - or climb into bed with someone else - to warm up. When you got hot, you could only strip down so far. 

Not like there was any way I’d be stripping off in the library.

I passed through the musty old room so often now on my trips to Copia’s office that the smell of ancient paper and mothballs actually had a Pavlovian effect on me, and I had to consciously stop myself from walking my familiar path down to the door at the back; instead, I skirted around the labyrinth to where I usually found the ritual books. It had been at least a year since I had been given ritual work - and my knowledge of the Blood Moon was hazy at best. The atmosphere in the library was thick with heat, plumes of dust dancing in the air where they were caught in the sunbeams running through the high windows. Eyes sweeping over the shelves, I took the moment to snatch my hair up in a quick ponytail to keep it off my neck, already sweating.

The unordered order of the books was gone. I could see the old positioning of this shelf like a picture in my mind; the green book tossed on top of three red, a large silver wedged in backwards with scrolls piled on top. Now, there was only a neat row of leather-bound tomes, on this shelf and the shelf below that one. With one finger I pulled on the spine of one until it loosened enough for me to see the title: A Complete Analysis of the Book of Revelations, Volume III. 

Gross. 

I slid it back in disgust, blowing a loose tendril of my hair from my sweaty forehead. God, I hated being too hot. And pacing these stupid shelves was only making my ire worse; the damned books I needed were nowhere to be seen, and the longer I had to spend looking for them the more I wanted to start tipping the damned shelves onto the floor. Why did I wear stockings today? My legs felt like they were on fire. 

“Fuck’s sake.” I muttered darkly, turning the corner to yet another row. I had to stop and check the title of a random book every now and then to see if I was anywhere close the topic I needed, and ended up seeing everything from History of Sacrifice to An Atheist Satanist. 

Just as I was shoving another (wrong) book back into it’s cranny, some of the thick air beside me shifted - I whipped around and he was there, looking equally as miserable in full black cassock and biretta.

“Jesus.” I snapped. “You trying to scare me?” 

He shook his head, eyes fixed on me. The edges of the black paint looked a little fuzzy. I guess I had to be thankful I didn’t have to wear full robes and gloves and haunt this place like he did.

Still, it was his stupid fault this was taking so long. I swept the persistent tendril off my face again and glared at him - his eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Why’d you have to go messing with the books? I can’t find what I’m looking for now.” I hissed - completely bitchy, completely wrong - I felt a twinge knife through my heart as his shoulders sagged. All the poor guy had done was his job.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, and I wanted to throw my arms around him.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do you know where the ritual books are?” 

The Cardinal’s hands tightened briefly and he glanced away, eyes narrowing in thought. 

“Which… which ones?” 

“Blood Moon ritual.” I replied, gruffly. I saw his eyebrows raise slightly, but he didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he turned, and led me to the complete other side of the library, weaving us through the shelves with the same level of ease as someone who had been at the abbey their whole life. 

In the middle of some dusty aisle, while he was reaching up to riffle through some volumes, I hitched up my hem and unsnapped the left side of my stocking, stepping out of my shoe long enough to roll it down and off completely. It was so stuffy it barely made a difference, but it was a start. I was just about to repeat the process when I felt his eyes on me; he’d frozen completely, staring down at what I was doing.

“What?” 

Crushing the books he’d selected to his chest, he shrugged weakly, eyes darting to the end of the aisle and then back at me. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

His immediate, burning flush told me I was right in guessing what he was thinking. Smirking, I undone the other one and rolled that one down too, stepping out of my shoes and the stockings. His eyes followed the fabric down as it passed my calf, my ankle, my toes. 

“You must be so hot under all those robes.” I commented, sidling over to stand right beside him. He shrugged again, fingers tapping rhythmically on the cover of one of the books. His eyes were cast downwards; I glanced down too, and saw he was staring at my legs still.

“You looking at my knees? They’re a little beat up.”

Faint bruises stained my kneecaps, and some of the bruises he’d given me were still healing, making my thighs a strange watercolour of various shades. When I fell down onto them, his lips parted.

“Is that a better view?” I offered, my hands skimming over his thighs through the cassock. God, it was thick; he must have been sweltering. Eyes wide, Copia made a strangled little noise, fumbling to shove the books onto a nearby shelf.

“Sister.” He hissed, attempting to crouch, attempting to pull me back up, but I was already working on moving the heavy hemline of the cassock up his legs to get to his crotch. He was panicked, but he didn’t move away - not even when I started to stroke my fingertip along his thickening length. His legs wavered, and he looked around quickly.

“Sister…” He whined. 

“No one is in here, Copia. It’s a nice day. People tend to spend them outside.” His cock was already straining against the fabric, his hips rocking minutely.

“Besides, Cardinal,” I continued with a soft smile. “This isn’t the worst thing someone could see us doing. Could you imagine if someone saw me doing this?” 

Leaning in, I mouthed at his cock through his pants, running my lips along it until I sucked at his head, tasting the salty precum already leaking through. His hips snapped and he groaned - cutting it off by clamping his hand over his mouth, chest heaving. My hands gripping the backs of his large thighs, I pulled myself closer to him, working my lips over the head continuously until a large wet patch of pre covered the majority of his groin. When I went to undo his zipper, he caught my hand with his own, shaking his head quickly, too stricken to speak. I got to my knees, and he crushed me with a voracious kiss, teeth stinging my lips until I gasped and he pulled away, sucking in the stagnant air, searing eyes studying me. 

“Fuck.” He said, very simply, very plainly, but it was perfect enough to describe the agonising frustration that coursed through both of our bodies. I wanted to tear the fabric from his body, and let him have me right there on the dusty carpet amidst the long forgotten tomes. I knew he wouldn’t let me. Still, I reached to snatch him down into another hungry kiss, moaning quietly into his lips as his tongue stroked and flickered over my own. I kissed him until my lungs burned; when I pulled away slightly to whistle in some air, his lips travelled over my cheek and jaw, moustache scratching over my skin in that way that made me shiver to my core. I pulled his forehead to mine and just held him to me, fingers around the nape of his neck, feeling his large hands squeezing my waist. Now, it wasn’t the sun to blame for the heat in my system.   
While I caught my breath, my eyes landed on the two books he had picked out for me. 

“Just two?” I mumbled. “I would have thought the church collection to be more bountiful, Cardinal.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, breath rasping steadily through his parted lips. When I glanced down, I could still see the outline of his cock through the cassock despite how thick the fabric was.

“There’s… there’s more.” He mumbled. “I took them. Research.”

I hummed, unable to stop myself from reaching across to massage at his bulge; eyes closing, jaw hanging open, he pressed me ever closer to him, hands trembling. 

“It’s absolutely essential I have this reading done, Cardinal.” I tutted, giving his thick cock a small squeeze that had his eyes rolling. 

“I suppose you’d better take me to your quarters.” 

-

We were barely in the room when he was on me again, kissing me ravenously, shoving me against the door so it slammed closed. I tried to return his kiss as best I could while tearing at my clothes, fighting to push him away long enough to snatch my habit over my head and dump it on the floor. My fingers at his throat, I began to undo the buttons there, nipping at his full lower lip until he groaned, crushing me between the door and his hips, his hard cock rutting against me. Gloved hands roaming over my body, he grabbed the back of my knee and wrenched it up so my thigh lifted, pulling me closer to him. He wouldn’t stop kissing me, and my fingers fumbled dumbly with the ridiculous amounts of buttons of the cassock.

“Take it off.” I hissed, slapping his biretta off his head. He didn’t even notice; too busy burying his face into my neck, all the while his hips rocked with increasing desperation to keep the friction going. 

“Copia.” I whined. I tangled my fingers into his hair and pulled him off my skin, panting a little. His room wasn’t as stifling as the library, but he was burning hot as a furnace, and all over me. Eyes glazed, he gave my body one last long, meandering caress before pulling away to undo the buttons himself, staring down at my underwear, breathing hard. I watched, sick with anticipation, as more and more of his skin was revealed - the broad expanse of his pale chest, smattered with hair that I dug my fingers into. He shuddered, lips parting, eyes burning into me like always. The cassock fell from his shoulders and pooled at his elbows; when he pulled me back to him I could press my face to his hot skin, my cheek scratched by the hair. Underneath his flesh, the steady, frantic pulse of his heart; I pressed a kiss over it, running my hands all over his chest and up to his shoulders in admiration.

When I looped my arms around his neck, his eyes met mine; I could see the insatiable lust threatening to spill over - but even though his hands were either side of me, planted on the door to cage me in, and even though his chest was heaving and I could smell his arousal in the still air, he leaned in slowly and, with reverence, pressed his lips gently to my forehead. Moaning, I cupped his jaw and looked up at him as he pulled away just as carefully, never taking his eyes off me. 

“Take me to bed.” I whispered. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds he scooped me up, one arm under my legs, the other supporting my upper back. Curling into him, I pressed kiss after kiss to his neck, eyes closing happily as we turned. 

And suddenly, he jumped so violently he almost flung me into the air. Scrambling, nails scrabbling at his skin, I fought to stabilise myself, heart pounding wildly.

Just as I was about to ask what had spooked him so bad, I saw exactly what it was. A painted face in the seating area, regarding our little display with a twinkle in its eyes.

“Ciao, bella. And caro.” Papa smiled, leg kicking lazily where it was crossed over the other. Copia’s clutch on me became uncomfortably tight; pressed entirely against him, I could feel him shaking. 

“Oh? Pretend I am not here.” Papa added quickly, fingers interlacing. “If you don’t mind this.” 

My face burned. He’d quite literally caught me in the arms of another man. But then again - my mind instantly flashed back to us in Copia’s office, and what Papa had done to him there. 

“Is this your new thing?” I hoped my tone wasn’t too confrontational, but his expression hardened just a little as he shrugged.

“A problem?” 

“Not for me, no.” I looked up at the Cardinal; he hadn’t moved since we’d spotted our visitor, and he was equally as flushed as I was. Dark eyes blinked slowly. Bringing my lips to his ear, my fingers traced down the other side of his face. 

“Do you wanna fuck me, Copia?” I whispered - he shuddered again, throat contracting. My thumb grazed over his lower lip and he finally tore his eyes away from Papa to look at me. 

“I want you to fuck me.” I breathed. “I want you to fuck me in front of Papa, and show him just how good you make me feel. I can’t get enough of you.”

His breathing had became shallow, and his heart thumped rapidly in response. He wanted to. But there was something else stopping him; humming, my fingers went to the wrinkles beside his eyes, then down to the ones on his neck. This time, my lips brushed his ear so I could whisper without Papa hearing me.

“Let me go on top so Papa can see me?” 

Instantly, he nodded. There we go. 

As he carried me over to the bed, I threw a look over to Papa; he twisted around in the seat, eyes glued to us. The seating area was quite an awkward angle from the bed, and it was quite startling to see his painted face poking up from behind the couch’s back. 

When Copia set me gently onto his sheets, I looked between him and Papa, who both just stared at me with the same vacant expression. Scoffing, I got to my feet and pulled off my bra. 

“You should get yourself comfortable, Copia.” I offered him a small smile and - despite his blush - he did as he was told, peeling off the cassock and clambering under the sheets to shell the rest of his clothes. Papa watched intently as I wriggled out of my underwear, trying to keep the attention on me while the other perpetually nervous man in my life got himself prepared.

“You’re sitting all the way over there? Grab the armchair and put it closer, idiot.” I chuckled. I heard a sharp inhale from Copia at that final word; I’d forgotten how it would seem to others to be calling the head of the church a moron as regularly as I did. Of course, Papa didn’t mind - jumping up, he took my advice, grabbing the arms of the armchair and pivoting it over so it rested beside a table perpendicular to the bed. The boombox on it rattled as he sat down, and he glanced over at it; grabbed the album on top, opened it. It was empty, and Papa smirked, eyes flashing over to the Cardinal. 

“Good taste, yes? ABBA. Swedish. Bene.” 

Jesus Christ. Copia looked like he wanted to snatch the sheets over his head. I wasn’t about to miss out on this because Papa decided to tease him over his music interests. Beside the bed, Copia’s pants, socks and underwear lay discarded; he was under the sheets, sitting up. 

I didn’t know if Papa was looking at me or at the sizeable collection of 80’s hits on the shelf under the boombox, but I still made a show of clambering onto the bed and sitting on Copia’s lap. Under me, I could feel his large thighs, the press of his cock directly against my own crotch, covered only by a thin layer of silk. Sliding my arms around his neck, I kissed him until his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around me. Small grunts left his mouth each time I rocked my hips, sliding his cock against me through the fabric. My heartbeat pounded in my temples, and once again, it was hard to remember that Papa was even there. I cupped the face of the man before me and smoothed my thumbs over his cheekbones, watching the fire ignite inside of him once more as his touches became more desperate, his breathing more ragged. 

Hands on his chest, I pushed until he lay flat, then twitched the corner of the sheets up so I could climb under there with him. The silk was hot from his skin, and a wet patch of precum swept against my back momentarily from where his cock had ground into it. 

“Good boy.” I mumbled, unconsciously, and his head jerked up from where he was watching my body slide against his to meet my eyes, pupils blown. I smiled, laying myself flat on him, elbows that rested against his chest propping up my face as I gazed down at him. 

“Yeah? You like to hear that?” I murmured. His cock throbbed against me, and though I wanted nothing more than to sit up and ride him until I exploded, I had a show to put on. The tip of my finger traced over his lips, tickled by the moustache.

“Do you know I could put you in me right now? You make me that wet so quickly. You make me so wet that even though you have such a thick cock -” Hand grazing down his front, I wrapped my fingers around him; he stifled a moan, eyes still boring into me imploringly. “ - I can take it so easily.”

I could hear Papa breathing from clear across the room. I wondered if he was touching himself, but couldn’t break the spell I was casting on the Cardinal, who by now was hanging onto my every word - jaw slack, hips bucking to fuck himself into my hand. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now, Copia.” I murmured, sitting up. The sheets fell from my back; looking down, his dick was against my stomach, leaking and flushed, somehow seeming to get harder as I pet it. Copia’s fingers embedded into my hips and he nodded quickly.

“Y-yes, Sister - “ He was so het up he could barely get it out, and I only made it worse by smoothing the pad of my thumb over his ultrasensitive head. A strangled little moan fell from his lips and his chin tucked to his chest, eyes squeezing closed. I shifted until I was pressed over him and just slid myself over him a few times, his cock hard and hot against my clit. I shivered, and took a second to glance over at Papa. He wasn’t touching himself, but I could see the tent in his pants, his hands gripping his thighs. His eyes met mine and his lips parted; he nodded a few times, and I took Copia in my hand again, sitting up enough to guide his thick head against me. 

It was only the second time we had done this and I still burned from stretching to accommodate him, but it was so fucking good. Tipping my head back, I slid down onto him slowly, pausing every now and then to adjust. I’d forgotten how completely he filled me, how it was almost unbearable. His grips on my hips grew tighter and tighter, the muscles of his shoulders tense. I knew he wanted to snap his hips up and pull me down onto him, but of course he wouldn’t. Instead, jaw set, eyes closed, he just waited, breathing shakily through his nose. 

“Fuck.” I groaned. I was finally flush with his body, him buried inside me completely. As soon as I began to move Copia groaned loudly; blushing, I glanced over at Papa, who seemed mystified by the noise, gaze alternating from where we were connected to Copia’s face. The Cardinal didn’t notice; eyes still screwed closed, he used his purchase on my hips to help move me up and down, his own hips starting to thrust upwards in tandem with mine. Each time, he did it a little bit harder, a little bit faster - and each time, I felt his cock slide into me so deep I didn’t know I could take it that far. Dragging my fingers through my sweaty hair, I looked down at him, breathless and panting, as I bounced on his dick; watching the heave of his chest, how his arms worked to move me, how his head tipped back in pure pleasure. His hair mussed from tossing, his paint smeared down his face - I moaned involuntarily, thighs squeezing around him. I couldn’t believe I got to see him like this. I loved it.

Speaking of men I saw like this, I finally remembered our voyeur. Tossing my hair out of the way, I looked over at him; he’d gotten himself out, gloved hand slowly massaging over it as he watched us ravenously. It took him a second to notice I was beckoning him over, and the slight confusion on his face as he obeyed was evident.   
His hips weren’t quite level with my face so I had to bend to the side slightly; Copia kept fucking me onto him, eyes opening briefly to watch me lean down to swirl my tongue over Papa’s head, my hand gripping his base with a tight squeeze I knew he liked. I pushed him into my mouth - it was pretty hard to alternate sucking and breathing when the breath was getting knocked out of me with every relentless thrust of Copia’s hips, each time slamming me back down onto him and each time making my breath hitch. Looking up, I noticed Papa’s eyes were everywhere, his breathing erratic; when I had to pull him out of my mouth completely to catch my breath, the muscles of my back burning, he grunted at the lost, fingers curling into my hair. 

“Wait.” I panted; I put my hand on Copia’s chest until he stopped, him peering up at me under hooded lids. 

It took some finesse to get them into the proper places. When I climbed off Copia I instantly felt horribly empty without him; Papa stole a lingering look at his flushed cock, soaked from how wet I was, as I guided him to sit on the bed. I turned, settling on my forearms with my ass in the air. When I glanced over, Copia was just sitting there, blinking.

“Come fuck me, Copia.” I murmured. Now, Papa’s lap was directly in front of me; I could easily suck him into my mouth. A gloved hand fisted back into my hair and he moaned low in his throat as I swallowed him down, my hands running up his thighs. The bed sagged as Copia got into position; I knew letting him be able to fuck me like this, with him in control, as hard as he wanted meant I was probably going to be sore again, but I didn’t care. The feeling of him stretching me back open was divine, pure pleasure spilling into my veins as he started to move, pressing himself so close to me each time he thrust inwards I felt him against my clit. Each thrust brought a little jolt of ecstasy, and also rocked my head further down Papa’s cock. I let my boys use me how they needed me to, a flood of grunts and moans coming from both directions as they fucked themselves into me relentlessly. 

I wondered who would come first, out of the two of them. Papa was usually hard to read, but any encounters involving Copia he’d become a mess, voicing his praises in half-moaned Italian. But Copia’s fingers were tight in the meat of my hips, bearing down on already bruised skin. One hand shifted, and I felt it skim up over my spine to grab my shoulder - attempting to drag me down even harder onto him, each hard jolt thrusting Papa’s cock further into my throat, and slamming deep inside of me. He paused momentarily to shift positioning - and when he moved again, his cock brushed directly over that sensitive spot inside of me, and a wave of intense, aching bliss bloomed in my abdomen. My moans were stifled by Papa, him thrusting into my throat, my chin coated in saliva. I felt it building, and building, up and up, a little higher with each slam on Copia’s hips until - 

Eyes rolling, my thighs shook as I came. Each skip of my heart sent another pulse of pleasure through my system, an indescribably good glow that permeated my every vein and cell until I was a limp mess, clenching down on Copia’s cock until he groaned, his nails scoring my back. 

“Do it…” I heard Papa urge, his hand resting gently on my head. “Do the bruise, caro.” 

Both of Copia’s hands trembled as they snaked up my sides; I felt his stomach pressing against my lower back as he leaned over me, his hands curling around my front to squeeze my chest. Then, his lips - grazing deliriously over the skin at the nape of my neck, at my shoulders. I knew what was coming. 

I looked up at Papa as Copia nipped at my flesh; he was watching what he was doing, face red behind the paint, an almost pained expression on his face. His jaw hung open as Copia’s teeth sank into my shoulder, sucking hard enough that the bite was numb in seconds. Groaning, I instinctively flinched away from the almost uncomfortable pressure but he held me fast, tongue tracing over what no doubt was pierced skin, his breath hot on the sore skin as he continued to fuck me. 

“Satanas...” Papa moaned, the hand buried in my hair moving to trace the gloved fingers over the bite; when he snatched it back, I saw the white cotton fingertips were stained red. 

Before either of us could react, Copia’s hand grabbed the front of Papa’s shirt in a tight fist and yanked him over - Papa yelped in surprise as he was pulled forward, the sudden shift in his positioning making my teeth scrape over his cock slightly. Just as I pulled away to apologise, I found myself crushed between the two of them; Copia pulled down the collar of Papa’s shirt and latched his mouth onto his collarbone, and I had never heard such a wanton moan fall from Papa’s lips in response. Under my hand, Papa’s cock twitched as his hips began to snap, grinding up into nothing, his eyes closed and head flung back to allow Copia to do what he wanted to him; when the Cardinal pulled away he sucked the skin until it broke from his lips, leaving an angry, purple bruise on his pale skin that matched my own. 

Papa fell back onto his haunches, immediately pressing his fingers over the bite, visibly shocked. Ducking my head, I took the opportunity to suck him back into my mouth - I knew he had to be close from his breathless, desperate panting. Copia’s hand slid over my back slowly as he picked up his pace again, fucking me so hard I was wincing, every muscle of my body aching with exhaustion.

It was Copia first, slamming his hips into me entirely and growling deliciously low in his chest as he emptied himself inside of me. I could hear him trying to catch his breath behind me, his weight leaning on me a little as he steadied himself on me with shaking hands. I pulled back and sucked the tip of Papa’s cock hard, my jaw burning from the effort. His hand travelled back over to the bite to press down on it - and then he came too, shooting into my mouth, groaning as he buckled forward.  
When it was over, I sat up slowly, spent. Papa had a dreamy look on his painted features, overcome with the afterglow, finger still playing over the bite as he looked over at Copia - who, having recovered, was now staring in abject horror at what he’d done, clutching the sheets over himself in a cute attempt to cover his modesty. I could see the cogs twirling in his brain, the fear of the repercussions of having marked our Papa so badly in a fit of lust - and I rolled my eyes. 

“You’re really gonna get shy now?” I tutted, and leaned over to kiss him. Papa’s cum still covered my tongue, and Copia shuddered as I brushed it over his so he could taste him too, his hands moving to hold my arms. When I pulled away and looked up at him, the haze of arousal was already seeping back over his expression; he regarded me with heavily-lidded eyes, seemingly content for now. 

Silently, I lay down, slowly easing my legs this way and that to stretch the overexerted muscles. Papa lay too, propping his face up with his hand, eyes distant as he got lost in his thoughts. Copia bundled the sheets over the paunch of his stomach when he caught me looking at it, cheeks burning, and I just tutted in response. 

None of us said anything for a long while. We caught our breaths, we lay in each other’s company, Copia’s fingers daring to brush over my calves, me reaching to fix Papa’s collar where Copia had snatched it down. His eyes came back over to me and he blinked a few times, regarding me pensively. 

“What’s on your mind, Papa?” I whispered, wondering what sage words our Pope would have about this little encounter. 

Eyes narrowing, he glanced away momentarily, nibbling his lower lip. Then, they were back on me, boring into my soul as he rubbed the fabric over the bite absentmindedly.

“I am thinking… I cannot decide this…” 

At my feet, Copia tensed, looking over at Papa with wide eyes, no doubt instantly panic-stricken. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what horrific tortures he thought Papa was planning for him for getting a little too overexcited. 

“...They say Dancing Queen is the best song of ABBA, but I am thinking it is Knowing Me Knowing You. What you think of this, cari?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* just some good christian boys and a sister nothing funny here I promise 
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to leave a comment to tell me what you think!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blood Moon ritual occurs. Sister has some words for Papa.

I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed rituals. 

They often gave ritual work to new Sisters so they could have hands-on experience, or the very eldest ones if the altar work was too complicated. It had been a very long time since I’d been invited, and I ensured I was aptly prepared for the occasion. 

Before the ritual began, I set the altar by lantern light; a circle of five red candles marking the points inverted pentagram, carefully mapped out by my patient hand with black salt. Within the centre of the pentagram I placed the large silver goblet, filling it half full with water; if I’d positioned it right, the Blood Moon would shine through the large window behind the altar, and reflect upon the water’s surface. 

Next, in three black lacquer bowls on a table a little below the altar, I dutifully doled out the required amount of asafoetida, celandine and belladonna into each, having to lug each giant jar of dried herb out of the storage cupboard and into the small chapel where the ritual would be held, and all the way back again. Every one of them were locked in a metal cage with the rest of the ‘eat this and die’ type, and my Sister training informed me I had to lock the cage itself every time I left the room lest some random junior Sister wander in and grab a handful.

Altar work was simple, but impeccably precise. Just one little thing out of order would ruin the entire thing. I’d brought a book with me to check and double check I’d done everything right. At the strike of the clock, I lit the small fire pit near the pulpit, breathing life into the tiny ember with the breath from my lungs until it caught and burned on its own, painting the room with orange light. 

All that remained was the lighting of the candelabras that ran down the side of the rows of pews - a job I despised, because Imperator must have bulk-bought the tealights at some random discount store instead of using the good ones I was used to. Half the bastards refused to light, and I lost count of how many times the matches burned down to nip at my fingers. 

But then, it was all done. Returning to the altar, I glanced over my book one last time before I switched the lantern off completely, tucking it away in the corner where it wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. My eyes were already well adjusted to the din; I stood beside the altar, straightening my Grucifix a few times, feeling a shiver of nerves run through me.

I didn’t have to wait long. The pews filled with other Sisters, solemn and silent, and eventually the familiar silhouette of Imperator crept through the door and down the aisle. I bowed my head at her as she sat on one of the front pews; her old fingers twisted over her Grucifix, already muttering words of prayer under her breath.

Everyone rose again when Nihil came in, all heads turning to greet our ancient patriarch as he doddled down the aisle with an uncharacteristically grim expression. They had to stay standing for quite an awkward amount of time as he slowly made his way to the pew Imperator was at; she squeezed his shoulder fondly, and he broke character to flash her a grin. When he managed to sit, perching on the seat closest to the aisle, everyone else finally followed suit. It was a good job I’d prepared early, really.

Behind me, framed by the window, the Blood Moon had started to rise; the semi-circle of red blazing on the horizon was mirrored on the rim of the ceremonial chalice. I opened my book and - squinting a little in the scarce light - began to read my lines. I’d meant to go over them with Copia at some point as I knew Imperator would be at the ritual, and would no doubt drag me back for Latin lessons once she heard my dubious pronunciation, but any visits I made to go see him did not end up in us practising Latin. 

I must have been doing alright, though, as her eyebrows only raised a few times. Nihil nodded along to encourage me, and it was hard not to smile. I felt like a kid at a nativity play. 

Just as I finished, the red cassock filled the doorway, his one white eye stark against the darkness. A shroud of smoke followed him, billowing from the thurible hanging from his gloved hand. Already, the room was filled with the smell of the spices burning in there, burning my throat but making my eyelids droop a little. 

With unexpected authority, Copia strode down the aisle slowly, thurible swinging pendulously from right to left with each calculated step. He stared ahead, expressionless, and my hand crept to my Grucifix. Steeped in the dark, surrounded by hazy smoke, loping towards me in the candlelight like this? I wondered if he was free straight after. And if he’d keep the cassock on.

He was so engrossed in what he was doing he’d barely blinked. Nearing the front, I bowed my head to him as I was expected to do. His head turned to look at me - and he paused, for just a moment, hesitating. 

His next step forward was nowhere near as confident. The chain of the thurible caught the moonlight as it moved, swinging a little more, a little more - until -   
I saw it coming, and I couldn’t have done a single thing about it. The heavy thurible swing wildly to the right - and then smacked directly in Nihil, who jumped and made a noise like air quickly escaping a balloon. Immediately Imperator was leaning over to inspect his arm, mumbling questions to him - and then she /glared/ over at the Cardinal. Copia stood there, eyes wide and jaw hanging open in mortification.

“Keep going.” She hissed, while Papa Nihil just looked a little bit sad, rubbing his arm woefully. There was a smear of ash on his white chasuble where it had hit. Copia wavered until Imperator snapped at him again, and then he beetled forward, setting the thurible down. When he reached for the herbs, I saw his hands were shaking.   
I wanted nothing more than to give him a hug. I wanted to crush his large body against mine, let him bury his face in my chest, and hide him away from the whole world. He was absolutely horrified, barely able to mumble the words needed as the sprinkled the herbs over the water. The Blood Moon had hit the perfect centre of the chalice; Copia carefully picked it up, stumbling over the final few phrases as he approached the fire. I looked on, chewing my lip. Honestly, I expected him to drop it; but he poured it over the fire. Its flames turned scarlet and it soared up, almost to the ceiling, golden sparks crackling over its tips like a firework display. The putrid scent of the burning asafoetida began infecting the air; I noticed a few of the younger Sisters discreetly attempting to cover their faces with their sleeves. Papa Nihil breathed deeply, like he was smelling a bouquet of roses. And Imperator did not stop glaring at the Cardinal. 

 

Copia was the first to leave, heading straight for the door before anyone was even out of their pews. My feet started to move to chase after him - and then I paused, cheeks burning, realising how that would have looked. 

But it was then the smouldering thurible caught my eye; he’d forgotten it. As the Sister with Ritual duty, it would be down to me to return it, surely. Gingerly, I looped my finger through the hoop and bounded after him, scooting past several Sisters. 

In the corridor, I initially couldn’t see him either left or right - but I just about caught his foot disappearing around the corner of the right wing, so I trampled after him, the censer banging into my legs a few times. Little plumes of smoke wafted after me. 

“Cardinal... Cardinal!” I called, racing around the corner. He was walking quickly, head down, completely ignoring me. 

“Cardinal!” His head jerked at the sound of my footsteps and he began to walk quicker, practically running. I was almost sprinting to reach him, the burn of incense in my lungs snatching my breath away quicker than I had hoped. 

I managed to get a few feet away from him, gasping, my habit covered in ash and charcoal.

“Copia!” I called, and he stopped dead. I slowed, approaching him carefully, like he were a wild animal I was trying to tame. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his shoulders shook slightly.

“Copia.” I repeated, softly. I was close enough to skim my hand over his arm. Breathing shakily, he stayed put, chin tucked to his chest.

“I... bought your thurible.” 

I’d almost said ‘you forgot your thurible’, but realised instantaneously how little he needed to heat that, considering how the ritual went. I wasn’t about to add another fuck up to the list. 

He was making a strange little sound every so often, refusing to acknowledge me. Sighing, I leaned in and kissed his bicep, nuzzling the fabric of the cassock gently. 

“It’s okay.” I whispered. He exhaled sharply. And then, he turned, hand stretching out to pluck the censer from my own. When I glanced up, his eyes were fixed on the floor, but as I reached to cup his face he pulled back from my touch, eyes flickering up to meet mine. They were watery. Streams of black paint ran down his cheeks; his lips were pressed together tightly. 

Inside, I collapsed. I felt like crying too. I wanted so desperately to touch him - I stepped forward, reaching for him, but he turned away quickly with a slight shake of his head.

“Don’t.” He murmured, voice thick. “I don’t deserve it.” 

With that, he was gone, melting into the shadows. 

-

I couldn’t get him out of my head; the image of his tear-stained face haunted me for the rest of the evening as I completed my duties, tidying up the ritual chapel. I took more time than I needed to, relishing the isolation; I wanted nothing more than to make my way to his office and hold him until he felt better, but he didn’t strike me as the kind who enjoyed that sort of comfort. He was embarrassed, what little ego he had would be heavily bruised; I hated to admit it but I could do nothing other than let him lick his wounds for a while. 

That being said, I still couldn’t stop thinking about him. The thought of returning to my lonely little dorm to spend the night tossing and turning, plagued by the vision of his wretched expression, was excruciating - and so, instead, I walked to Papa’s quarters, trailing my hand over the cobblestones of the walls as I went.   
I’d long fell out of the habit of knocking when I went to see him. It was funny to think back on when we first started our - well, whatever this was. I was always a nervous wreck, calling him by the honorifics, terrified to step out of line; and now, he was my Italian idiot. 

Moving through his office, I pushed the door to go through to his quarters. He didn’t lock it until later in the night in case I ever decided to visit like this, which was rather thoughtful of him. I heard a sound that made my blood chill in my veins as I passed over the living area towards the double doors of his bedroom: a small, low moan, unmistakably his. Instantly, my cheeks burned hot, a jealous fury I didn’t anticipate searing through me as I paused, straining, listening outside the doors. 

Another. 

I couldn’t believe it. But I was also scolding myself for acting like such a spoilt brat - it was Papa, of course he would have others. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it did.   
...But hadn’t he said it was only me?

Unable to help myself, my hand pressed onto the door, inching it open far enough that I could peek inside. He lay on the bed, shirt unbuttoned, the pale flesh of his chest and stomach starkly white against the black sheets. His hands, ungloved, were busy; fingers tracing over the swollen love bite Copia had given him, the other hand palming himself through his trousers. He squeezed lightly, and moaned again, catching his plump lower lip under his teeth.

Emotions flickered through me at breakneck speed. I could have cried at the sweet relief - then, furious at him for no real reason - and then a fondness blooming for him in my heart, my Italian idiot - and behind that, smouldering, the heady sensation of desire at the sight of him enjoying himself like this. 

He pressed down on the bite; his jaw opened to moan, brow knitting, and I swung the door open enough for me to wander through. He didn’t even notice.

“Who ya thinking about?” Like I needed to ask. At the first sound of my voice his eyes flew open and he scrambled up into a sitting position, hands either side of him on the bed. The panic died in his eyes as he recognised me and he rolled his eyes, hand coming to rest on his heart.

“Dark Lord below.” He rasped. “You scare me, cara.”

“Maybe if you didn’t lay around touching yourself like the slutty man you are you wouldn’t get spooked by someone walking in on you.” I tutted, but I was smiling. When I approached the bed he held out his hand to me; I took it, and he immediately pulled me over to him, trying to get me to sit on his lap. I wriggled off, pulling a face.

“No, I want to talk to you.” 

“Oh.” He blinked. “Why?”

“I… I don’t know. I have a weird feeling inside of me, I guess.”

“Ah.” His eyes twinkling, he brushed his fingers over my cheek. “This is a… what is it you say? A mood?”

“Promise me you’ll never say that again.” I replied gruffly.

He broke into laughter, shrugging a little. 

“Okay. What do you feel, cara?” 

“Something… something happened today and it’s made me feel all… icky, I guess.” Chewing my lip, I considered my next words carefully. Papa hated missing out on rituals, and was probably salty he’d been too busy today to perform it. Best not to bring it up.

“Copia’s upset.” I murmured. Eyebrow raising, his head tilted, the hand that wasn’t propping him up pausing where it had been rubbing at my knee. 

“Why?”

“He had a rough day today.” I wasn’t about to tell Papa I’d seen him crying. That would probably mortify him even more, knowing Papa knew. “And he just wanted to be left alone… but…” 

Papa’s hand was travelling up my thigh. Frowning, I snatched his wrist away. 

“Papa, I’m speaking.” 

“Si, si. Andiamo.” He muttered, hand flexing. 

“...Anyway. I feel like I should go talk to him, or something, but I know he doesn’t want me to. But I think he shouldn’t be alone. It’s just… frustrating, you know? He works so hard and more often than not he’s the butt of the joke - what did I just fucking /say/?” 

The hand threatening to slid under the hemline of my dress paused, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine. 

“You are stressed, cara. I help with this.”

“I don’t want to do that right now. I want to talk. Do you understand?” Batting his hand away again, I glared at him until he withered, his cheeks a little pink under the paint. 

“Scusami.” He mumbled, finger tracing small circles into the bedspread. 

“Forget it.” I snapped, climbing off the bed. “Fucking forget it.”

“Cara mia - please -” He whined, starting to come after me - spinning, I shook my head, face twisting. Though his eyes were frantic, I could still see the telltale signs of lust - the heat radiating from him, the way his breath rasped between his lips. 

“Is getting off that much more important than just listening to me for a few minutes?” I didn’t mean it to come out so forcefully, but anger was beginning to sizzle through my veins - pent up frustration, confusion, sympathy, hurt - and worst of all, feelings I didn’t want to confront, feelings that attempted to claw their way to the surface whenever I caught myself daydreaming about Papa or Copia in sickeningly romantic situations, pining after each of them in the most domestic of scenarios. Gross and pathetic. Either of them could have me melting with a single look, and I loathed it.

Papa tried to speak but I was on the bed then, crawling over to him as I yanked off my habit, launching it across the room. 

“Come on then, if you’re so needy. This is what you want, isn’t it?” 

“Cara - I - sorry - please -” He whimpered, fists tightening in his lap, but as soon as I fisted my hand into his hair to pull him back over to me he betrayed himself with a loud groan, eyes rolling. He shook his head desperately under my grip.

“No, no, not this. You don’t want to.”

“You do. You can’t seem to think about anything else, so let’s get this sorted.” I snarled, tugging on his hair a little until his eyes rolled again. The resulting little whine dripping from his pouting lips had the frustration inside me raging, half of it metamorphosing into the same lust he was controlled by. 

“Amore -” 

“Take your clothes off, Papa.” I’d barely gotten the sentence out when his hands were working to undo his belt and fly, his shirt falling off his shoulders as he shrugged out of it. His eyes were still tinged with worry but there was the same look of wonderment as when I’d demanded he fucked me, the time after I’d seen Copia. While initially I’d started this out of spite, passing my palms over his chest as he scrambled to slip off his trousers set a pressure in my gut that had me panting. 

Once he was completely naked, he reached to take off my bra - I slapped his hand away.

“No, you’re the needy one, not me. Keep your hands to yourself.” 

His eyes roamed over my body - my bra, my underwear, my stockings. I pushed on his shoulder until he lay back, my hand barely grazing over his cock where it was leaking onto his stomach. Lips parting, he moaned urgently at the slightest touch. I tutted, trying to keep my voice even while my heart pounded out of my chest. 

“You’re so hard already. You’re desperate, aren’t you?” 

Nodding quickly, he reached for me again - I moved away.

“Why don’t you touch yourself, and show me how bad you want it?” 

The tips of his ears were red but he obeyed, hand sliding down his front over the trail of hair that ran from his belly button, wrapping his fingers around himself with a quiet groan as he started to stroke his cock, head tipping back, jaw hanging open. I ran my hands over his thighs, breath hitching at the sight of him pleasuring himself. Hips flexing, grip tightening, he jerked his hand over himself quickly, a series of grunts and whimpers raining from his lips that only grew louder when I scored my nails into his flesh. 

“Amore - please -” He gasped, his other hand sliding over his chest fitfully. “S-scopami -”

“Is that you want? You want to fuck me?” 

“S-si! Please!” 

I clucked my tongue, shrugging a little as I fell onto my back. In a flash he’d sat up, pulling himself over to me, panting, as his hands grabbed my thighs and his cock brushed against the fabric between my legs. 

“I didn’t say you could, Papa. In fact, I’m pretty upset with you. I don’t think you’ve been good enough.” I scolded him; his brow creased and he whined, his cock leaking onto my stomach and wetting the waistband of my underwear. 

“I’m.. sorry…” He whispered. “Per favore, cara -”

“What are you sorry for?” I interrupted, gazing up at him. Eyes lowering, he paused, shrugging sadly. 

“I… you wish to say to me, and I… am too preoccupato -”

“Preoccupied.” I muttered, and he groaned, head tipping back.

“Fucking English.” He whined, and I couldn’t help cracking up at the sound of pure disdain in his voice. His hands were on my hips but he was rubbing soothing circles into my skin, staring down at me tenderly. 

“Your Papa… he is...silly... sometimes. Un idiota, like you say.” 

“A huge idiot.” I huffed, but his concern for my feelings touched me, the frustration beginning to ebb away. 

“I just… I just want to make you feel good. You worry, so this is what I think to do. It’s… how I know how.” He mumbled, not quite looking at me. His hand hovered over my stomach but he thought better of it, repositioning it back on my hip.

I considered his words - true, every time I’d gone to him while I was upset, he’d fuck me so hard I’d forget whatever it had been that had set me off. But he sounded a little ashamed, and though it confused me at first, it suddenly clicked in my brain. 

Sex was the one thing Papa was exceptionally good at. He was built for it; everything about him was meant to seduce, to enthrall. Within days of us starting, he already figured out where exactly to touch and kiss on my body that made me putty in his hands. Without it… it looked like he didn’t have as much faith in himself as I thought. It was bizarre to think of Papa being uncomfortable with himself, but he was still avoiding catching my eye, wrapped up in his thoughts. 

I hummed, and brought my legs together, catching his cock between my thighs. It was like a switch was flicked - moaning, Papa wrapped his arms around my legs, squeezing enough that my ankles crossed so his cock was pressed tight between my flesh.

“If you keep grovelling long enough, maybe I’ll let you fuck me.” I giggled. His hips had began to rock already, imperceptible at first, then faster; I could feel the hot, flushed tip sliding rhythmically against me, his cheek pressed to my calf. His precum was soaking the front of my underwear, slicking my skin until he was able to thrust into me with no resistance. 

“Bella, cara mia.” He mumbled, breathing hoarse. “Cosi bella, cosi gentile.” 

I almost snorted. ‘Kind’ was pretty much the last word I would have used to describe myself at that moment, but I appreciated the ego stroking. Humming, I waited for more, just watching him fuck himself between my thighs like a desperate little dog. 

Having such a powerful, all-commanding man reduced to this due to his own dumb lust for me was a power trip I didn’t know I’d enjoy so much. The bed was beginning to rock from his efforts, his breathing quick and shallow.

“You do make me feel good.” I whispered, my hands grasping his knees. Whimpering, his thrusts started to stutter, and my eyebrows raised. 

“Maybe you should slow down?” 

A delicious low moan was my only response, his head falling back as he squeezed my legs together even tighter. I bit my lip.

“Papa?” 

“Fuck-” He groaned, hips jerking - and then his cum was spurting over my stomach, hitting as far up as my bra, so much of it that it started to run down my sides and onto the sheets. His chest rumbled as he moaned his pleasure, jolting a few times. When he was done, his head hung forward as he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh dear.” I giggled. “I didn’t expect that. I thought you wanted to fuck me?” 

Unbelievably, he was blushing - seeing Papa flustered was always a novelty. 

“Sorry.” He whispered, breathlessly; in that moment, he reminded me so much of Copia it was eerie - my heart ached at the thought of the other man in my life being so miserable.

“Do you have any -”

Before I could finish my request for something to clean myself up with, he parted my legs and was lapping at my skin, eyes burning into me - my breath caught in my throat as he cleaned up the mess he’d made of me with his tongue, my hand running through his hair.

“Nasty.” It was all I could manage to choke out; I was already wriggling under his clever hands.

He chuckled against my skin, his fingers curling around the waistband of my underwear. 

“I don’t leave you like this, hm?”

But just as he made to pull them down, he paused, glancing up at me. 

“Oh… cara mia… I have a - a thing - I must go to soon.”

I just looked at him, eyebrow raising. He kissed each of my thighs in turn and then gazed up at me. 

“I will need a Sister with me. Big event, a hotel, big meeting, big meals. Will you?”

“Will I what?” I frowned, and he laughed softly.

“You will come?”

“Why do you need a Sister there for? To do all your receptionist work? Hold your coat while you schmooze the patrons?”

His mismatched eyes flickered over my face and he fell silent for a moment, before breaking out in a small little smile. 

“No real need for a Sister.” He whispered, caressing my thigh. “I just want you there. I would miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor rat man; he's trying his best.
> 
> hmmm! this is one of those in-between chapters that are kind of slow. 
> 
> also, i've been writing some extra background/prequel pieces for this fic on my tumblr, so go check it out if you want! 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading c:


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister and Papa go to the event. TW for brief violence/blood mentions.

“You’re joking.” 

Dressed entirely in white and gold, Papa peered at me over the top of his oversized sunglasses, the breeze playing with his hair. 

My lip curled and I turned back to regard the limousine; sparkling black paint job twinkling in the uncharacteristic sunshine. 

“You do not like this?” 

“Is it completely necessary?” I sighed heavily, the beginnings of a headache already starting to sink its claws into my temples. I squinted over at him, the sun far too bright. Horror flashed on his features, a gloved hand reaching to push the glasses further down the bridge of his nose. The golden claws on the tips of his fingers glared in the light.

“Certo! I am Papa. These people have, ah…” He tailed off, sliding the glasses back into place as he watched a Ghoul shove yet another of his suitcases into the trunk. 

“Expectations?” I prompted, and he just nodded slightly in response, smoothing back his hair.

“What even is this thing we’re going to, anyway?” As I reached for the door handle Papa brushed my fingers away impatiently with a tut, opening it himself and gesturing for me to enter with a graceful curl of his fingers. 

He didn’t reply. The interior was completely black, the walls studded with glittering white lights that barely illuminated his face when the door was closed. I’d never been in one before, and he watched me with some amusement as I patrolled the place, crouching slightly as I meandered to the far end and back. All around the partition there were strings of lights to show the controls, and my finger itched to press them all. Papa himself was fiddling with some controls above his head; a purple light bloomed to life, displaying a glass bar of crystal flutes and bottles of champagne. I scuttled back down and perched on the seat adjacent to him; he spread out comfortably on the back seat, quite still. And he was still wearing those stupid glasses. Carefully, I leaned forward to pluck them from his face - and his eyes, once closed, flew open.   
“Grazie.” He mumbled, taking them from me and tossing them onto the seat beside him. The car began to roll forward, and Papa scratched his claws through his hair, squinting at me slightly.

“So what is this thing?” I asked again, stretching out my legs over his. Smiling, he reached down to pat my knee. 

“Una conferenza.” He muttered, thumb tracing lazy circles into my skin. He must have been tired if he was speaking Italian. Had he been up worrying the night before?

“What kind of conference?”

“For… ah… our Dark Lord. The different…” A heavy frown creased his face, eyes narrowing. 

“It’s okay. Say it in Italian.” 

He flashed me such a lovely, grateful, sincere little grin that I felt my heartbeat accelerate, unable to stop myself from smiling back at him. He explained his role in his beautiful, lilting language; as Papa of the Church - the main Satanic Church - he was expected to make appearances at Satanic events. Today, sects from all over were gathering to meet and mingle, share ideas, build networks. It wasn’t far to travel by car once we got onto a main road from our estranged abbey, but the main event started early in the afternoon and we had to be prepared by then, hence why we were up at such an ungodly hour.

All in all, it sounded quite boring. I didn’t envy him. Half-asleep, Papa gestured at the bar.

“Drink, cara mia?” 

“It’s a little early.”

He laughed at that, his shoulders lifting in a little shrug.

“Ah… mio fratello… my older brother would be disagreeing with you on this. No, I ask for others. Limonata, per te. Pink. You like this, yes?” 

He was trying to kill me off. I could actually feel myself getting angry at him for being so nice to me, and for making my pulse skip in my neck. He’d asked for my favourite drink - pink lemonade - to make sure I was comfortable. I wondered if I drank enough of it, it would drown the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

I’d half-expected him to be propositioning me for some sort of lewd act during the trip but he could barely keep his eyes open, head drooping minutely towards his chest. He glanced up when I sat beside him, nestling into his warm side; his arm wrapped around me, and I began to tug at the fingers of his gloves. 

“You think this car is silly?” He actually sounded worried. Pulling off the first glove, I brushed my lips over his hand briefly. 

“A little big for just us two.” 

“Vero. Three, at first - but he says no.” 

Halfway through shelling the other one, I sat up slightly to look at his face, heart thumping a little harder. 

“Copia?” 

Papa nodded, tugging the glove off himself and setting them beside the glasses. 

“He said no? He was supposed to come?” 

“He comes.” Papa’s finger traced over the side of my face, his eyes on my mouth. “Cardinals - important figures. Must be there. I offer him to come with us in this but… he says no. Another car for him.”

I sagged a little as his words hit me. Somewhere, Copia was making this trek entirely on his own. I hadn’t seen him since the ritual. It was like he’d up and vanished, and each time I received no answer from his door the underlying anxiety would only multiply. He was the last thing I thought about when I tried to sleep, and the first thing on my mind when I woke up.

I missed him so much it hurt, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to myself. 

“Maybe he’s still upset.” I muttered. The image of him crying flashed into my mind - and a pain so severe knifed through my heart that I clung to Papa for a moment until it passed, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. 

“...Make him feel better…” Papa mumbled, so low I missed the first word he said - it was either ‘I’ or ‘we’. 

As rife as I was with worry, and as much as my gut churned hoping he was okay, I was keenly aware that Papa was leaning quite heavily against me, eyes closing again. He still had his arm around me so I was in quite an awkward position, crumpled against his side as he lolled on me. His breathing slowed, but he inhaled quickly when I moved him away, straightening my habit out. 

“Scusami -”

“No, I’m getting comfortable.” Tucking one leg underneath myself, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, his head coming to rest on my chest. Eyes wide, he swallowed, clearing his throat.

“Cara…”

“It’s okay.” I muttered, lacing my fingers through his hair, over and over until his eyes began to droop again. “No one can see you, Papa. Just rest.” 

Humming nervously, his eyes flickered about a few more times, but then he finally relaxed; sagging slightly, his arms wrapped around my waist and he pressed his cheek heavily to my chest, right over the frantic beat of my heart. He’d held me like this so many times before, my ear resting in the same position to hear the soothing pulse in his ribcage; it was nice to be able to return the favour. Even if it did make my own heart thump helplessly quickly.

In no time at all, he was sleeping, cuddled to my chest and safe in my arms. 

-

Just like the limousine, the hotel was an overt display of grandeur that I felt completely dwarfed by. 

Papa slept pretty much the entire time we were on the road; he roused when we were about five minute away (waking right on time, quite spookily, really) and spent the last leg of the journey pressing sweet kisses all over my face. When he pulled me onto his lap I’d stiffened at first, unbelieving his first instinct on waking up would be to try it on with me, but I completely misjudged him. He held me in his arms and kissed me until my heart beat so fast I thought I would pass out from the silly, girlish excitement that raced through my veins. He whispered to me in Italian, words so sickly sweet they belonged in a candy store, and with burning cheeks and tight lips I struggled to deal with the fact that I was melting for him.

I resolved to leave it all behind in the limo. The plan was to return to my usual (quite cutting) self, maybe throw in a few ‘idiots’ at him if he tried being so lovey-dovey again, but the second we stepped into the lobby I was so out of my element I clung to him urgently, eyes struggling to scan fast enough to take in the plush surroundings. People in the lobby either ignored him completely, or stared in awe like he was some sort of celebrity - which I guess he was, to some. My arm looped through his, I just watched as he prepared us; leading us to the grand marble reception desk to gather the room cards - or card, in this case. A bellboy was busy loading the suitcases - and my one small bag - onto the trolley. Someone was standing by the elevator to press the button for us, which was simultaneously ridiculous and flattering. Inside, /another/ person pressed the button for our floor, and I had to keep my question back for a while longer until we stepped out into a corridor, alone at last.

“Just one card?”

He was fiddling with one of the two doors on the corridor. 

“Si, si.” He cursed under his breath and tried the other one. 

“So you only booked a room for us two?” I felt a little bit sick. “So the Church knows -”

“No faith in me, cara mia. Very sad.” He slotted the card into place and the door swung open; he stepped back smugly. “Two. This one with two bedrooms, for me, for you. This one -” He turned to point at the one behind him. “ - for the Cardinal. But for the Church to know? Two bedrooms for me and the Cardinal, separate room for the Sister.” 

Oh. He raised an eyebrow at me, that smug smile still on his face. 

“Clever, yes?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t see him in the lobby or anything. Do you think he’s here yet?”

Papa just shrugged, still waiting for me to go inside. 

It turned out he’d lied to me. It was a bit more than two bedrooms - it was a suite. We were only going to be here for a night or so but we had a kitchen, a lounge, a bar, two enormous bathrooms and a view that made me feel dizzy. Papa watched as I ambled from room to room, unable to contain the weird thrill of excitement of being in a hotel.

“There are ones with three beds. I offer this, but he says no again.” 

Collapsing onto a sofa, I just sighed. He was definitely still beating himself up over it, then. If I was honest, I didn’t see him turning up at all. The last place he’d want to be would be in a room full of people. 

I wanted to see him so badly. 

After the bellhop arrived with our bags, Papa spent by far too long digging through them all to find what he wanted to wear for the evening. I got changed into a skirt and shirt with a nice blazer, then sat in the lounge looking out over the view while I waited for him. He kept appearing in the doorway with a new outfit on, demanding my opinion and then flouncing off again. In the end, just as I was starting to harass him as the clock was ticking seemingly faster and faster, he materialised triumphantly in a suit so tight it looked like it had been painted on, black pinstripes and shining leather patches on the elbows. He kept the clawed gloves on and slicked his hair with pomade to keep it in shape - and he had the audacity to tell me that I looked nice. 

There was still no sign of Copia, not even when we made our way down to the event hall. Instantly, Papa was swarmed with people gushing over him. It was so intense that even though it wasn’t me it was happening to I shied away, struggling to breathe for a few seconds, but he just laughed and charmed his way through the adoration, all the while tactfully moving us closer and closer to one of the tables draped with white cloth. Among the flamboyantly huge and colourful centrepieces sat placards - one with his full title, one to the left of it that read Copia’s, and another one that simply read ‘Guest’. The sight of it had me reeling. Was I his plus one? 

Eventually, someone had to come over to disperse the crowd and allow us to sit. Papa pulled out my chair for me before sitting himself. On the crisp linen before us sat an itinerary of the evening’s events, due to start very soon - on the other side, a menu. 

Copia’s seat remained empty right up until the time the first speaker took to the stage. Papa caught me looking at it more than once, and reached under the table to capture my hand in his. 

Truth be told, for a conference about the Dark Lord it was incredibly dull. Members of each different sect would climb up to discuss their own philosophies on how best to honour Satan. I found myself reading the words printed on the thick card over and over, my eyes following the swoops and curves of the letters. Papa turned his over to peruse the menu, humming softly. 

His head dipped to mine and I craned my neck so he could whisper to me.

“Very good food, yes. A little sad, though - they miss your favourite meal.” 

I pulled away to frown at him quizzically. I didn’t even think I had a favourite meal. His face was entirely neutral as his mouth returned to my ear. 

“Dick.” 

It wasn’t even that funny, but I still snorted like a fool, instantly reaching over for the crystal glass of water. Papa rubbed at my back gently as I drank; the other people seated at our table looked quite miffed at my display.

His own boredom ate away at his composure until he was resting his face on his hand, eyes flickering over the stage listlessly. I felt his other hand creep along my thigh, the slightest graze of the claws on my skin making me shudder. He leaned back over to me.

“You think, cara - if I go under this table and eat you, they would notice?” 

I followed his insistent gaze over at our neighbours. They were taking this very seriously. One of them had a notebook and was scribbling down pretty much every other sentence, nodding emphatically at certain points. 

“Let’s not try it, just in case.” I was only partly sure he was joking. I could all too vividly picture him sliding under the table and throwing my legs over his shoulders.   
Releasing my thigh, he began to toy with a fork, huffing out his breath. It was my turn to whisper, and he tilted his head eagerly. 

“I’ll be back. Little ladies’ room.” 

He nodded once and I rose, quickly beetling to the wall so I could skulk around the tables without getting in everyone’s way. 

So engrossed in what I was doing - weaving my way around the frowns of the conference goers - that when I finally reached the far door I pressed my back to it, backing out slowly while casting my eyes about to make sure I wasn’t pissing anyone else off. The door closed before me, and with a sigh I turned to walk away - and barged straight into someone.

I knew it was him before I even looked up: the smell of leather and incense, the shape of his body under my palms when I quickly tried to push myself away. He melted almost entirely into the shadows in the black cassock, and looked as shocked to see me as I was to see him.

Gazing up at his face, it felt like I hadn’t seen him in years. I took him all in - his wrinkles, his strange, intense eyes, the smattering of freckles on his skin - and tears were dangerously close to spilling down my cheeks. 

I threw my arms around him before he could leave and he just stood, stunned, stiff for a second or two, before he tentatively wrapped his arms around me too, chin coming to rest on the top of my head.

I breathed him in deeply, my face buried in his chest, the furious flutter of his heart on my cheek. Breathing shakily, his grip on me tightened gradually; I stood there, enveloped in him, until I knew I could speak to him without crying.

“Where have you been?” I demanded hoarsely, my fingers fisting into the material of the cassock on his back. 

He didn’t reply. Lifting my head, I looked up at him; he was staring down at me, lips parted, breathing quickly. 

“What are you doing out here?”

Copia shifted about, eyes narrowing away from me. 

“I should be in there.” He muttered, attempting to push me away gently but I clung to him, unable to bear being away from him again. His expression was pained as he gazed at me, jaw tightening. 

“Let’s go in, then.” I urged, softly.

Head dropping completely, Copia exhaled shakily. I could feel his hands trembling where they clutched me.

“I can’t.” He whispered.

I pulled him as close as I could, trying my best to hold him together. He seemed reluctant to be held but let it happen anyway, his breath whistling between gritted teeth.

“Come on.” I muttered, reaching for his hand; he flinched and I grabbed it tight, lips pressing into a tight line.

“Sister…” 

“Come on. You have your room card?” 

 

The Cardinal was silent our entire trip back up to the suites, and regarded me with the same level of distress when we finally got into his rooms. I made him sit down on the sofa and climbed on top of him; he tried to push me off, shaking his head a little, but I held him fast, pressing my forehead to his and wrapping my arms around his neck. It felt right to have him against me once more. His shoulders shook, and I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see him crying again. 

“Copia.” I murmured. His hands rested weakly on my thighs, his erratic little breaths warm on my face. 

How did I begin to explain what I wanted to say to him? Just the thought of voicing any of this mush deep down in my soul made me want to cry, or throw up, or both. But I needed him to know how much he meant to me; I hadn’t actually realised it myself until these days without him, and I’d felt like I was missing a limb.

“I’ve missed you.” I whispered. “I have so much to tell you.”

Copia exhaled, and I moved my lips to kiss just above his nose where his brow knitted. 

“The truth is, Copia…” 

I could physically feel his eyes on me. He was tense, waiting to see what I was going to say. So was I, really - I didn’t have any idea how to begin. 

“... I like you.” Such simple words, but ones that had my stomach in a vice anyway. He didn’t react, so I licked my lips and tried again. 

“I really like you. I like you a lot.” My hands drifted to cup his face, my lips tracing over his. The familiar scratch of his facial hair was like coming home, and I wanted to pull him down beside me and sleep for a week. 

“I couldn’t bear being without you.” I muttered. “What the hell were you doing?”

“...Being alone…” He mumbled. Some of the thickness had faded from his tone, but he still sounded so wretched I wanted to burst into tears. I pressed my lips together tightly for a second to compose myself.

“Do you… do you like being alone, Copia?” 

His nose traced over my own, promising a kiss I knew he would never take for himself. 

“No.” He spoke it right into my skin. “Not anymore.”

“Then why did you -”

“Because I deserved it, Sister.” He replied curtly, his face beginning to turn away. I held him in place, whimpering quietly.

“Copia, don’t. You didn’t mean it. It’s all fine.” I breathed. “Please, stop beating yourself up over this.” 

A small shake of his head; my fingers scored through his sideburns. 

“What is it that you’re afraid of?” 

His eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks where he looked down for a long moment before his sad eyes finally lifted to meet mine. He studied me for a moment, and then his brow creased. 

“Imperator said… if I act incompetently... they’d reverse the transfer.” 

The breath was knocked from my lungs. I just stared at him, horrified, unable to speak for a few seconds. His eyes, burning into me, began to swim, threatening to spill over his freckled cheeks. 

“Oh.” It was all I could manage. His eyes closed, and my trembling lips found his forehead again. 

I couldn’t be without him again. I’d feed Imperator to the Ghouls if she even tried to take him away from me. Just the thought had me crying; ugly, messy tears streaming down my face that he moaned at and tried to wipe away with his thumbs but I held him fast, shaking my head to get the image of him leaving out of it.   
I gulped in my breath until my heart slowed and kissed the tip of his flushed nose, sighing.

“You know something, Copia?” I whispered, unable to look at him. He just waited, and I pressed my lips to each of his cheeks, building myself up to say it.

“I think I more than like you.” 

It seemed to ring in the quiet air. He froze entirely, breathing rapid, eyes surely fixed on me. 

“Wh -” He swallowed thickly, a small shake of his head. “Why?” 

Such a small question with such a big answer. I didn’t have the time or effort to begin to explain to him the way I felt when I was around him. He’d just have to take my word for it for now.

“I just do. I like you how you are.” I paused, daring to open my eyes to meet his own mismatched pair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, you know that?”

Copia inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing closed so intensely I panicked, thinking I’d upset him. Before I could react he kissed me, pulling me tight to his body until I couldn’t breathe, smothered by him entirely. He was trembling so violently I could feel it in my bones; my cheeks were wet as he moved his lips over my own, the horrible feeling of being so vulnerable to someone equally matched with the wonderful feeling of being crushed in his arms - back with him, back with my strange, quiet man. 

I’d actually admitted it to him, now. I’d refused to even think about it for months, and now saying it to him - even if it was in a very vague way - felt like a weight lifting from my shoulders. 

But there was still something else to deal with. The fact was, I’d had this very same feeling for the other man in my life for an even longer amount of time. I’d chalked it up to sentiment, not allowing myself to even entertain the thought of Papa wanting anything to do with me other than some quick fucks. But he’d kept me around. It had been months, and he hadn’t tossed me aside for someone else. I’d had this feeling about him for so long, and then Copia came into my life - and the exact same feeling bloomed for him, too. 

Looked like I needed to tell Papa. And then tell him that it wasn’t just him, either. The thought of that conversation made my head spin; I clung to Copia with a quiet sigh, pushing my face into his neck.

“Sister.” He whispered, voice raspy, and I immediately knew what he was going to say next. “Sister, I -”

“Don’t say it.” I breathed, brushing my lips along his jaw. “Don’t say anything. I’ll combust. Please.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move; but then he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss onto my cheek, running his hand up to thread it into my hair. 

“Okay.” He murmured. “You tell me when I can say it.”

Just as we returned downstairs to re-enter the event hall, a few people were filtering out. I remembered - after I’d read that itinerary so many times it had imprinted itself onto my brain - a break had been scheduled just before the meal, and glancing at the clock on the wall confirmed my suspicions. I led Copia by the arm through the small clusters of people, searching for the face you could spot a mile away. 

Papa was surrounded by a large group, of course, laughing and schmoozing his way through multiple conversations at once. He looked over at me and then instantly moved his gaze to Copia - and his eyes lit up, a smile broad on his face.

“Cardinal.” He called, but we couldn’t get anywhere close to him. Someone tapped Papa on the shoulder and began talking wildly about conspiracy theories and I watched him just nod along, eyes continuously darting over to check where we were. 

Midway through the conversation, a Ghoul from another sect physically wrenched the person away to get close to Papa. Even from where I was standing - a good few feet away - I could smell the scent of sweat and strange, ghoulish spice that saturated them. Under the simple black mask, his hair was lank, and he seemed utterly restless.

“My Dark Pope.” He rasped, grabbing onto Papa’s hand for a strenuous handshake. Papa took a single, sweeping look at him from top to bottom and I saw panic register on his eyes. Frowning, I began to inch closer, elbowing my way towards him; people were backing away instinctively from the Ghoul’s weirdly aggressive vibe. 

“Ciao, ciao. Nice to meet -”

“My Dark Pope.” He gasped again, clawed hand moving to grip Papa’s forearm as he tried to pull his hand away. “The /pleasure/ is all mine.” 

Sleaze. It dripped from his words. He didn’t seem to care that there was at least twenty five other people around him, and that Papa was wincing at the tightness of the grip. He opened his mouth to speak - no doubt to try and disarm the situation - but the Ghoul pressed ever closer before he could.

“A true son of Satan.” He babbled, and I was aware of Copia tensing beside me. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this. You’re the one who’s gonna help me with my problem.”

“I… I try?” Papa’s smile was flimsy. Each time he tried to retrieve his arm the Ghoul tugged him back, and Papa grimaced. 

“Demon blood in your veins.” He rasped. “You know what the heat is like. I want you to fuck me, my Dark Pope; I want you to fix me.”

The Ghoul lunged a little closer and Papa quickly backed away, eyes widening. Then - clearing his throat - he forced a laugh.

“Ah, I am, ah, flattered you think of me during this time.” He even went as far as to pat the Ghoul’s hand lightly where it was embedded into his skin. “But I must say no; I am… ah… faithful… to another -”

“Bullshit.” He snarled. “You’re Papa Emeritus. Your entire Church is built on slutting it up.” 

Glaring at him, Papa managed to free his arm - though the claws tore his sleeve to tatters, and blood began to spot onto the floor.

“I do not just fucking give this out, Ghoul.” He spat; his rich timbre filled the hall effortlessly, and more people were turning to look. 

Just as the Ghoul lurched forward to retaliate, Copia was gone from my side. 

“Caro -” Papa hissed, moving forward himself. Someone in front of me jumped back - and straight into my view - and then there was a string of gasps and yells from the group around them.

By the time I fought my way to the front, the Ghoul was laying on the floor, motionless. Papa had his arm around Copia, desperately dabbing his sleeve at the Cardinal’s face, whispering in horrified Italian. Copia’s back was to me, and everyone was staring at him. 

I laid my hand on his shoulder and came to his front; his face was down, red running in rivulets down his jaw and dripping off his chin. For one brief, weird moment, I was back in the abbey, watching the rainwater run from his fascia the day I’d met him. 

“Copia?” I whispered. 

He looked up at me, his white eye swimming with blood; four long, evil gashes down the side of his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on tumblr x


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister, Copia and Papa spend a night in the hotel after the evening's shenanigans. 
> 
> cw for blood again! Poor Copia's face. 
> 
> Also there's quite a bit of Italian in this chapter, sorry! Papa gets flustered and goes back to his mother tongue.

If there had been any doubt as to my feelings for him, they were well and truly squashed in that moment. A long, low, horrified whine rang out, unnoticed, from my mouth as I stared at him, terror twisting my stomach so sharply I felt bile rise in my throat. Blinking, Copia raised his hand to touch his torn cheek; blood continued to spill between the black leather of his gloves, running down his arm and into the sleeve of his cassock. 

For a long moment it was like we were all frozen in time, rooted to the spot at this grisly affair. And then, like a snap of someone’s fingers, everyone reacted at once. Papa was trying to pull Copia’s hand away but he stood fast, face getting paler by the second. Someone else was attempting to assist Papa where his arm had been wounded. Security arrived, hoisting the Ghoul away before he could rouse. Copia’s eyes wandered between me and Papa; too shocked to move, I just stared at him, unable to breathe without feeling like I was choking. 

The red uniform of a hotel attendant weaved its way through the crowd. When she surfaced, her eyebrows shot up her forehead at what must have been an incredibly strange sight - a wounded man in full almost-Catholic regalia, a man in a painted face and too-tight clothes buzzing away in Italian, surrounded by a crowd of worried Satanists. But she managed to gather Copia’s attention and asked him politely to come with her for first aid. 

Obediently, he took a step in the direction she walked and I made to follow; she paused, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, it’s best if you don’t come.”

The words had barely left her mouth when I felt Copia’s free hand shoot out to grip my own, squeezing it so tight it hurt. Sighing, Papa rested his hand on Copia’s shoulder.

“I go with you, caro. Va bene. Sister meets us upstairs, yes?” 

Copia’s lips parted to speak; a fresh trickle of blood sprang down his face and he winced.

“Go.” I whispered, and he turned to look at me. I could see where a claw had tore his skin, terrifyingly close to his eye - thought it batted every few seconds, trying to dispel the red haze of blood gathering over it like a film, the white iris still burned as intensely as ever. 

“I’ll wait for you both.” 

 

It felt like hours. I paced the entirety of the suite, lapping around the perimeter and staring at the door each time I passed it, willing them to return. 

It was so much blood. What if he’d had to be taken to hospital? Would Papa go with him? I couldn’t imagine Copia alone in a hospital bed, waiting to be seen, with everyone staring at him. Knowing him, he was probably already extremely embarrassed at being the centre of attention anyway. He and Papa could not have been more different. 

Just as I’d gave up and settled on the sofa, curling my arms around my knees miserably, there was a small ‘click’ and the door swung open. 

“Andiamo, andiamo… careful, caro…” 

Papa backed his way into the suite with the Cardinal in tow, who was clutching his biretta and had quite a sizeable amount of gauze applied to his face. It was already a little pink from blood, but it seemed the majority of the bleeding had stopped - a tidal wave of relief swept over me, and tears pricked in my eyes. 

As I padded over to them, Papa closed the door. His jacket was slung over his arm, and the one the Ghoul had clutched was covered in similar gauze.

“Are you… are you okay?” I whispered, and they both nodded at the same time. 

“Va bene, amore. Only little scratch. Caro, though… they say about stitches....” 

“No.” Copia muttered abruptly, eyes on the floor. I blinked. It didn’t seem like him to interrupt Papa, and it looked like I wasn’t the only one to notice. His teeth came to rest on his lower lip as Papa regarded him, eyes sweeping down his ruined cassock. 

“You need to change. Both of you.”

Nodding, Copia turned back to the door, but I called over to him:

“Copia, you’re exhausted. Just take something of Papa’s.”

Hesitantly, he peered over his shoulder at me, his face framed so perfectly it looked like nothing was wrong with it. 

“My bed…”

I scoffed loudly, beckoning Papa over to press a kiss onto his cheek before he wandered into the bedroom. 

“Sleep here tonight. I can’t have you out of my sight again.” 

The Cardinal’s gloves creaked as his grip tightened on the biretta and he looked away.

“Please, Copia.” Stepping closer, I lightly took hold of his forearm. “I need both of you by my side. I need you both there so I know you’re both okay.” 

Where some of the black paint had had to be removed around his eye, I could see a heavy bag there, purple and swollen, from lack of sleep. He regarded me briefly and then sighed, probably knowing I wasn’t going to let up, probably too tired to argue. 

I led him by his hand to the bedroom where Papa was already changing, struggling to get a black t-shirt over his head with the gauze in the way of his forearm. He’d put on underwear, which I was thankful for - he wasn’t one for pyjamas, and although Copia was tired, seeing Papa sprawled out on the sheets completely naked might have spooked him. 

I kept my back to Copia as I got changed, stripping down until I was just wearing my panties and then digging through Papa’s suitcase for a shirt of my own. Holding them to my body, they swallowed my frame entirely - but I realised they wouldn’t fit over Copia’s broad shoulders. 

Turned out I needn’t have worried. Copia clambered under the sheets in a flash, his cassock and pants left in an uncharacteristically messy pile on the floor, the biretta and gloves planted on top. 

I sidled in beside him, risking a glance at his body while his eyes were closed and he was nuzzling his good cheek into the pillow. He was only wearing his boxers, and when he felt my hand pass fondly over his chest he pulled me down to squeeze me against him, his breath on the side of my face. There was dried blood on his forearm, but in the time it took for Papa to turn out the light and get into the bed on my right, Copia’s breathing was steady and slow, fast asleep already, before I could suggest him going to wipe it off.

Ah well. Housekeeping’s problem.

Papa was shifting about, throwing glances over at the Cardinal and myself with a strange little smile on his face.

“What?” I muttered, and he just grinned, pressing himself against my other side until I was surrounded by them both, their arms curling over my torso. His lips reached my jaw, pressing small, sweet kisses along it until they found my ear.

“Carino.” He whispered, his breath making my spine tingle. I looked over at the sleeping Copia and nodded, aching to reach out and brush his hair from his face but loathe to wake him up. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days. I was happy to be his teddy bear. 

“Yeah.” I replied, quietly, laying my head down. “I’m glad you think so, too.” 

Papa kissed the top of my head before he nestled himself comfortably beside me, giving me a little squeeze.

“He… he did this… for me.” 

“Yeah.” I muttered, eyelids beginning to droop. The weight of their arms on my chest and stomach and the combined, pleasant warmth of my two boys, safe with me, was like floating on air. “He sure did.” 

Papa was quiet for a long moment, long enough for my eyes to close completely. I curled my hand up to touch Copia’s and he stirred momentarily, his fingers fumbling until they intertwined with my own. My other hand had been captured by Papa. He pressed his lips to my knuckles and laid it on the pillow beside his face, his breath hot on my skin. 

“I tell you something, cara mia?”

“Sure.” 

“Not… not the best thing to say right now…” There was a waver to his voice, and my heart began to thump. I wanted to turn my head so I could look at him but I didn’t dare. 

“...Right?” 

“He does this for me. Fights off this Ghoul.” Papa breathed. “And it is very fucking hot.”

Part of me was relieved he was just saying his usual dumb thirsty stuff. But another part of me was actually disappointed. I remembered my conversation with Copia - momentarily lost with all the horrible hullabaloo - and realised I’d have to have a similar one with Papa soon. 

Sighing, I just nodded.

“Get some sleep, you idiot.” I mumbled, and he laughed softly, his lips on my fingers once again. 

 

We must have only slept for a few before Copia was awake again. I awoke to find my left side cold and empty, and Papa sitting up beside me on the bed. Copia was perched on the edge, pressing his hand to the gauze; when he pulled it back, it was smeared with blood.

“That needs changing.” I mumbled blearily, still half-asleep. I made to get up but Papa lightly pushed my shoulder to keep me down.

“Sleep, cara mia.”

“No, no, let me -”

“I can do it, Sister.” Copia whispered, his other hand creeping across the sheets so his finger could trace over my own. “Thank you.”

He loped into the darkness and I sighed, pulling the sheets up on his side so the bed would stay warm for when he got back. 

“It looks bad.” I whispered, staring at the door long after he’d left. Yawning, Papa nodded, his hand scratching through his hair. 

“He needs the stitches. They put on this tape like thing over the… ah… scratches... and the fabric on this. Not enough.” 

“He won’t let them.” I mumbled. “We’ll be better off getting him to go to the infirmary at the abbey.”

I couldn’t believe the next sentence was about to come out of my lips, but I had to say it.

“I can’t fuckin’ wait to go home.” I lamented, and he cuddled me into his chest. 

“Not good day.” He agreed, his mouth at my temple. 

We waited, and Copia didn’t return. The familiar twinge of anxiety began gnawing at my stomach.

“He’s been a while. I should -”

“Sleep, this is what you should do.” Papa chuckled. “We wait. If he is staying out longer, I go to him and see.”

“I need to make sure he’s okay.” I whimpered, burying my face in the fabric of his shirt. He sighed deeply - I could hear the air whistling into his lungs - and kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering in my hair.

“I feel this too, cara.” He whispered. “I care of him.”

 

I must have drifted off. Very suddenly I jolted awake, and was immediately aware I was alone. I sat up slowly, my heart beginning to race, my eyes flitting around the dark room. 

I couldn’t hear them talking. I couldn’t hear a thing; sliding out of bed, I padded across the carpet - almost trampling Copia’s clothes - and crept through the corridor to the bathroom. The light was on, but it was empty; at the sink was a washcloth, tinged with red and black paint, and some soaked gauze lay in the trash can. Glancing in the mirror, I swept my hair behind my ears, chewing my lip out of habit. 

The lounge and kitchen area was empty, too. I took a moment to stand by the huge window, gazing out at the many coloured lights twinkling in the dark of the night like multi-coloured stars. My brain was still waking up, and it took me a minute to remember this suite had two bathrooms - thought I wasn’t sure why Copia would make the effort to travel to one that was further away, especially if he was bleeding. 

The other half of the wing was completely dark, and when I quickly poked my head into the bathroom, it stood cold and bare. 

In the next room, I heard the bed creak, and something pooled into the pit of my stomach.

Falling onto my hands and knees, I moved slowly, holding my breath as I peeked around the corner. It was almost pitch black in there but just enough moonlit flitted through the window to catch the two silhouettes on the bed. With each blink, the scene focused more, until I could see what they were doing. 

Copia was seated with Papa on his lap, Papa’s back pressing to Copia’s stomach, his arm reaching back to weave his fingers through the Cardinal’s hair. I froze, wondering if they’d seen me, but they were too busy kissing, Papa’s jaw working slowly as his tongue brushed over Copia’s, grinding backwards into him. His other hand was on his cock, working over it lazily; when Copia pulled away to breathe, a small, sharp exhale left Papa’s lips, the hand that was in his hair travelling down to run over Copia’s thigh. 

“Please.” He mumbled, hand flexing, nails digging into his flesh. “Please, caro.” 

The side of Copia’s face that was facing me was the side covered in gauze, so I couldn’t gauge his reaction, but I could sense his usual hesitation. But there was something else, something emanating from him - and the same level of tension he carried whenever he was overcome with lust. 

“Ti voglio.” He rasped. “Do this, please.” 

Copia’s throat contracted, his eyes fixed on Papa’s hand as it roamed over his thigh. One of his own hands was resting on Papa’s shoulder, the other clenched in the sheets beside them. I was struck by how slight Papa looked next to Copia like this - when he raised his hand to caress Copia’s neck, his back arched and his ribs were visible under his pale skin. 

“...Not sure, Your Excellence…” Copia managed to reply, but he’d barely said it when Papa hissed suddenly, making him jump. Carefully, so as not to touch his wounded face, Papa tilted his head towards him, and pulled away enough that I could see his own face properly. His face paint was starting to smear, and his hair fell messily where he’d been sleeping on it. 

“Not this.” He snapped, pausing to let himself kiss Copia again, dragging back on his lower lip with his teeth. “Not Papa, not tonight. Yours, caro.”

Copia didn’t move, and Papa whined, brow knitting.

“Sono la sua putanella stanotte, caro. Scoparmi.” 

With that, he fell forward onto his elbows, spitting into his hand and reaching back behind himself. Copia watched - I could hear the quake of his breathing - before slowly moving forward, his hand skimming down Papa’s back. Papa moaned quietly at the touch, hands coming to grip the sheets in front of him, breathing evenly. 

My hand fell between my legs to press at the growing throb that pulsed there, unable to tear my eyes away as Copia moved closer. It was too dark to see what he was doing properly, but the hand on Papa’s back tightened and Papa gasped, head falling down, jaw hanging open. A few moments passed and Copia’s tongue flickered between his lips.

“Is this…”

“More.” Papa groaned, attempting to rock himself back; Copia’s fingers dug into the meat of his hip to keep him in place, his chest heaving, but he continued to ease himself into him, his erratic breathing filling the room. 

Papa’s fists twisted the sheets until his knuckles were white, and it sounded like he was struggling to keep his breathing even, but his cock was painfully swollen, leaking all over the bed below him. More than once, he tried to move himself back onto Copia’s cock impatiently, moaning abruptly each time. He pushed his face into the sheets until Copia was done filling him, his hands twining the fabric desperately as Copia pressed ever closer.

Copia’s chin was on his chest, his eyes closed, and neither of them moved for a minute. Muffled by the sheets, a series of slurred Italian expletives rang out, and Papa dared to rock his hips back - they were instantly followed by a low moan, his chest heaving, the muscles in his back straining with effort. He raised his head to look over his shoulder at Copia, and most of the paint had smeared off of his face.

“Please.” He croaked. “Please, caro. Use me like this. Need it.”

With the first tentative thrust, Papa tipped his head back and moaned, and Copia shushed him quickly, but didn’t stop moving - I wanted so badly to see his face, see the pleasure on his faces, his characteristic flush under the freckles, but the gauze obscured it. 

He was slow, at first, letting Papa get used to the feeling of him inside him. I knew from experience how intense it was, but I couldn’t imagine taking him like this. It didn’t seem to matter to Papa, anyway; the more into it Copia got, the more his brow knitted, his arms shaking from holding himself up until he just collapsed down onto the bed, back arched to meet Copia’s body with his own, face dropping back onto the sheets. Eventually, each thrust of Copia’s hips had Papa rock forward, and a whorish little moan spill from his mouth; Copia shushed him again nervously, and his breath hitched as Papa obeyed - biting down on the sheets to keep himself quiet. 

“Quiet.” Copia mumbled. “Let her sleep.” 

My knees were burning from being pressed into the carpet for so long but Satan himself could not have dragged me away from watching. I felt so strange, and dirty; I was literally being a voyeur, and this time, I didn’t think either of them knew. Was that wrong? It felt wrong. But it was also unbelievably hot to watch them both progressively fall apart; watch how Copia’s head fell back, quiet little grunts tumbling from his lips as he started to fuck Papa harder and harder; watch how Papa writhed and whined but still fucked himself back, desperate to meet his hips with each slam forward. 

Copia fell back on his haunches slightly, breathing quickly. Before Papa could turn his head the Cardinal’s hand was fisting through his hair, gripping tight enough that I saw Papa wince, then break out into a grin, biting his lip as he looked back at him. Copia didn’t move, and Papa took his cue; he began grinding himself back onto Copia’s cock, eyelids fluttering theatrically. Copia’s grip must have tightened again because Papa groaned, jaw falling open, and then it was Copia pulling him back and forth, guiding him onto his cock without moving himself. 

Papa’s hand shot underneath him to touch himself; his fingers barely grazed his cock when Copia pushed his head down, making his hands fly up instinctively to catch himself before his face was pressed into the sheets again. Copia fucked him roughly, teeth clenched, thighs flexing, while Papa wriggled under his grip, gasping. 

“Like this -” He whimpered. “ - Like this, caro - ah - don’t stop - ah - /ah/ -”

Papa’s cock twitched and then he came, spilling all over the sheets while he groaned his pleasure into the mattress, his hands still by his head. Copia faltered for a second, one hand daring to creep over Papa’s spine and then down to his front to touch his cock curiously. Papa grimaced at the over stimulation and tried to move his hand away but Copia batted his knuckles irritably and squeezed his hand around his slowly softening length, gingerly moving it down towards the tip until another rope of cum dripped onto the bed. 

Catching his breath, Papa pushed his forehead down, watching Copia’s hand move over him curiously. 

“You…” He paused to wheeze in some air, propping himself up on his elbows to look over his shoulder at him. “You touch another man like this before?” 

Copia shrugged. He’d stilled completely, focusing on exploring Papa’s dick. Papa blew his hair from his eyes and smiled, back arching to rock himself back onto him. 

“You touch me whenever you like, caro.” He giggled. 

With a tiny nod, Copia’s hands returned to his hips, and Papa hissed and gasped as he fucked him again. Sentences of filthy Italian filled the air, of Papa telling Copia exactly how good he made him feel. And how he loved it when he got rough with him.

Holy shit.

I was so caught up in it all it took me a few moments to notice Papa’s eyes were flitting around the room somewhat, and though his attention was mostly focused on the increasingly desperate Cardinal, all it would take was one quick glance at the door to see my flushed face peering it at them. 

Carefully, I backed up until I was out of sight and then got to my feet, my legs like jelly from being crouched for so long, the heat between my legs practically unbearable. Just the friction of my thighs squeezing together had my core in pieces; I scrambled to creep away, knees shaking, and returned to the other bedroom.

As soon as I got under the sheets my hand was under my waistband and I stuffed two fingers inside of myself, trying to quell the ache, but it wasn’t nearly enough. A few minutes of hurried, desperate rubbing and I gave up, just holding my hand over myself, feeling my pulse. I needed to be fucked - by which one of them, I didn’t care. By both of them. The thought of both of their bodies against me, both of their cocks in my hands, both of their moans and please ringing in my ears either side of me - I groaned, and buried my face into the pillow, rocking slightly. 

It was going to be a long night. 

 

I got up quite late. By the time I reached the kitchen area, the two men in my life were already up and showered. Copia must have made a run to his suite as he was wearing some comfortable loungewear, like when I’d seen him in the library. Papa was in his underwear, but his own pyjama shirt and pants were tossed onto the couch near Copia. As I came out, the scent of fresh fruit and melted butter hit me; Papa was filling a plate from a veritable buffet spread of breakfast foods laid out on the kitchen bar. The trolley beside it told me it had been a room service order - which also explained why he had clothes out here. I was thankful he had the sense not to answer the door in his underwear. 

Copia looked up from the paper he was reading as I entered, the good half of his mouth twisted up into his tiny smile that I returned, heart fluttering at the sight of him. Neither of them had the facepaint on. I wondered if they’d showered together. 

“Amore!” Papa called, gesturing with a waggle of his fingers at the food. “I order this. Take what you want.”

His plate was piled high with pancakes, jam, toast, eggs - a mishmash of carbs and sweet things with some random savoury items thrown in to boot. I’d long become accustomed to his weird tastes but Copia stole a confused look as Papa settled on the sofa. It was a corner sofa, and Papa sat perpendicular to Copia, close, but not too close. Neither of them said anything of interest to each other as I spooned fruit into a bowl. Copia kept his eyes on the paper, reaching occasionally for a cup of black coffee to sip from, while Papa ate with gusto. He adored food of any description. 

I perched on the arm of the sofa and bit into a strawberry, sucking the juice from my lips and humming at the sweetness. Papa smiled over at me.

“Good, yes? I tell him to eat, but he doesn’t.”

“Have you had breakfast, Copia?” I asked, popping a grape into my mouth. 

Without looking up, he gestured in the direction of the coffee. I wasn’t the only one to frown in response. 

“That’s not a real breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?” 

“I’ve eaten enough.” He mumbled, a little flush creeping over his visible cheek. I tutted, moving over to sit beside him, between him and Papa, lolling into his arm. 

“Copia, if you’re hungry, eat. Don’t feel like you can’t.” 

He wasn’t looking at me; he was looking over at Papa who was demolishing what must have been a serious wedge of his daily calories, plate balanced on his lap. I didn’t know if he’d made some deal with the Devil, but Papa was the type to be able to eat all day and always stay the same. Copia’s eyes glanced down at his belly and he grimaced slightly, shaking his head, returning to the paper. 

“Copia.” I sighed, lifting the bowl a little. “How about some fruit?”

“No, thank you, Sister.” He mumbled.

“If you eat some I’ll kiss you.” I was completely joking, aware that I was scolding him like a child for not wanting to indulge, but the paper closed quickly and he picked up a strawberry and put it into his mouth, his face the same colour as the fruit. Chuckling, I leaned in and pressed our mouths together; I could taste the sweetness on his lips.

When I pulled away, I was acutely aware that Papa was staring at me. I looked over at him and he quickly dropped his gaze, lathering jam onto a hunk of toast nonchalantly.

“What?” I called, and he shook his head quickly.

“Niente, niente.” 

“Are you jealous?” I couldn’t help myself. His head raised at that, brow furrowed. 

“What?” 

“Are you jealous I’m kissing your man?” I fluttered my eyelashes, resting my cheek on Copia’s shoulder, who had gone stiff.

“What… what is this?” Papa laughed. Without the paint, I could easily see how pink his face was flushing. He set the plate on the coffee table and streaked his fingers through his hair.

They were both staring at me, and I wanted to tug them both over and feel them on me again. 

I looked up at Copia, my finger tracing over his cheekbone. His eyes widened, and he swallowed. I reached for another strawberry and held it to his lips until he bit into it obediently, eating the rest myself. 

“Such a good boy.” I chuckled, and I heard his breath hitch. “You always do as you’re told, Copia. Except for last night, of course. You were in charge, then.” 

Silence. I glanced over at Papa and then back at the Cardinal, gazing up into his mismatched eyes. 

“Everyone assumes Papa is so domineering, but he’s a total switch at heart. And you can be too, obviously.” 

“Sister…” He whispered, and I pressed my hand to his chest to stop his heart from racing, looking over at Papa.

“Why are you two acting so strange? I’ve fucked you both while you were there and while you weren’t. Do you think I’m mad at you?” 

Papa shrugged, picking at the gauze on his arm. I laughed, my hand skimming over his thigh until he looked up at me. 

“He tastes like strawberries, Papa.” I prompted, sliding from the couch onto the floor. Papa took the hint and moved along the couch until he was close enough to kiss Copia’s cheek, who all but melted in that single instant. Papa turned his face to his own and kissed him hard, tongue working its way between his lips effortlessly while Copia started to shake. 

They got into it so fast. Seeing it in daylight was an absolute treat. Papa’s hands roamed all over his head and torso, pulling him ever closer while his tongue explored his mouth; Copia dared nip at Papa’s lip and he chuckled, twisting his head up to kiss at his throat. I slid my hands up their thighs and palmed at them both, feeling them rapidly hardening underneath the fabric. 

“I want you both.” I mumbled. “I can’t decide who. So here’s the game.” 

They looked down at me, Copia trying to steady his breathing, Papa’s lips on the Cardinal’s neck.

“Whoever doesn’t cum first fucks me.” 

I took Papa out first. He stopped kissing Copia long enough to lift his hips so I could slide his underwear down far enough, pulling him out and giving him a quick stroke that had him moaning. Copia wasn’t wearing any underwear under the lounge pants, and they were already stained with a little patch of precum. Once I had them both in my hands, I looked up at them again; they were pressing closer to each other, lips and hands exploring each other’s body, touching and kissing every available part of bare skin. Papa tried to inch up Copia’s shirt but he pushed his hand away, shaking his head quickly, to which Papa only kissed him with more fervor, flickering his tongue between his lips until Copia whimpered quietly. 

They were both so hard, and hot in my hands. I massaged them both slowly while I watched them, anticipation stirring in my already tight stomach. 

When I couldn’t wait any longer, I leaned in and sucked the tip of Papa’s cock into my mouth, tongue swirling over it to taste the salty precum gathered there. Above me, he groaned, and I swallowed him down a good amount before pulling away and turning my attention to Copia. He jolted at the first touch of my lips and I just lapped at his head at first, letting him get used to the sensation. As soon as I wrapped my mouth around it his hips were bucking, and when my tongue dragged over the underside he hissed something I didn’t catch, muffled by Papa’s mouth. 

Looked like Papa was going to fuck me. I returned to him, licking circles around his length and then pushing him back into my throat again; each time I squeezed the base of Copia’s thick cock, he groaned, rocking up into my hand desperately. I pulled away again with a wet pop, catching my breath, my entire body alight with desire. 

“Fuck.” I sighed, moving to kitten lick the precum beading on the slit of Copia’s cock. I could barely fit him into my mouth but did my best anyway, drool spilling over my chin from the effort of trying to push him into my jaw. He moaned helplessly, and I felt his trembling hand stroke over my hair for a few seconds.

When I went back to Papa, the second I had him between my lips Copia grabbed his jaw and wrenched his head up so his neck was exposed; I looked up at watched him kiss the healing bruise above his collarbone, while Papa gasped and writhed. 

“N-no… no…” Papa whimpered, but Copia sucked his skin into his mouth anyway, grunting softly. Papa’s cock twitched in my hand; he was thrashing, one hand around Copia’s neck to try and get him away.

“No… no - not - not fair -” He rasped, hips beginning to snap in that telltale way. Copia pulled away and dragged his tongue over the fresh mark, pulling away to study it for a second.

Then, he leaned in and nipped at the bruised skin, and Papa spilled into my mouth, moaning loud enough the guests around us must have heard. I stayed at his head and milked him into my mouth, swallowing down the rush of salt while Papa thrusted gently into me, gasping. Copia finally moved away and Papa’s chin fell to his chest.  
“Cazzo. Bastardo.” He seethed, his fingers tracing through my hair softly until I pulled away. I got to my feet, smiling at his scowl.

“Not fair.” He insisted, tucking himself back into his underwear. Rolling my eyes, I shelled my shirt and wriggled out of my soaked underwear, tossing them onto his lap.   
“Second place gets to fuck me in the car home.” I shrugged, and his eyes lit up, clenching my panties between his fists with a grin. 

I tried to climb onto Copia’s lap but he shook his head quickly, turning me the other way and pulling me into his lap so we were in the same position that he and Papa had shared the night before. Puzzled, I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he looked away, turning the damaged cheek from my view.

Ah.

Though my heart ached at the thought of him not wanting me to look at him, his cock was throbbing against my ass, and it was increasingly difficult to try and think about anything else. His hand on my hip, he gently guided me up until I felt the tip of him rub against me deliberately slowly, his breathing steady as he spread my wetness over myself. Just went I was about to lose my mind he sank the head into me and eased me back onto him, delicious and slow, my body stretching to fit him in. When I was flush on his lap he held me there for a few seconds, grinding his hips into me in a way that had my eyes rolling. With a low moan, his chin fell onto my shoulder, one hand sneaking up to play with my chest. 

Papa’s lips landed on my collarbone, and I closed my eyes, feeling both sets of hands on my body. Copia continued to move his hips; not quite thrusting, just moving himself inside of me, hips grinding in a small circle below me. Papa’s mouth closed over my nipple and I whined, lifting myself up slightly off of his cock only to sink back down, white flashes dancing behind my closed eyes at the stretch.

“Fuck -” I groaned, feeling Copia’s teeth nip at my shoulder. “Copia, please, please fuck me.” 

His lips travelled up my neck until his mouth was hovering near my ear, my skin tingling from his breath.

“You feel so good, Sister.” He whispered hoarsely. “I… I missed you.” 

With a desperate sigh I threw my hips back; Copia hissed in response, hooking his elbows under my knees and pulling my legs back and apart so I fell back on him, kicking wildly, hands scrabbling either side of us to find some place to grab; I managed to loop one arm around his neck and dig the other one into the sofa, rasping in some air as he started to fuck me. 

I was completely at his mercy. Unable to move, unable to control how deep he was thrusting into me - with each slam of his hips he would moan into my ear, and that sound alone was enough to have my blood boiling through my veins. My head lolled on his shoulder, my feet kicking slightly with each savage thrust; he fucked me relentlessly. Every so often, I’d feel the sting of his teeth on my shoulder as he tried to keep himself quiet. 

When my head dropped forward I was aware of Papa on the floor, staring up at me, biting his lip. I wanted to reach for him but a single wrong move and I would slide off Copia’s lap. I watched as he leaned closer, face right between Copia’s legs. My cheeks flushed. He was staring directly at where we were joined, where I was suspended and where Copia’s cock was driving into me.

“Wh-” I caught my breath and tried again, blowing my sweaty hair from my eyes. “What are you -”

Grinning, Papa leaned closer, and stuck out his tongue. I shook my head and moaned but he dragged it over my clit slowly, then swirled it around the little nub of flesh. The stimulation was painfully intense; my stomach clenched and I tried to buck away but I was completely exposed to him. His tongue passed lower, the flat of it resting against the underside of Copia’s cock, who shifted behind me momentarily before starting up the movement of his hips again, grunting softly into my ear. 

Papa’s hands kneaded into my thighs to help Copia hold me up, his lips moving back up to suck my clit into his mouth; I jolted at the sudden burst of pleasure, buckling forward until Copia dragged me back against him again. The pressure in my stomach only seemed to build, and build; I tried to rock my hips but Copia held me fast, whispering unintelligibly.

I had to deal with Papa’s mouth working my flesh tirelessly the whole time my orgasm tore through my body, jolting uncontrollably at his persistent stimulation that seemed to drag the glowing waves wracking my body on forever. Behind me, Copia’s thrusts were getting sloppy; his chest heaved against my back and his teeth sank into my shoulder to muffle a low, rumbly groan I felt against my spine as he came inside of me, grinding his hips up into me again while he rode it out.   
When we both finished, he released my legs. I flopped bonelessly against him, reaching back to cup his face so I could kiss him - and he jumped so violently I nearly flew off the couch.

“Copia?!” I had barely caught my breath; I turned to look at him and realised I must have touched the cuts on his cheek. His hand hovered over the gauze, panic blooming in his eyes.

“Is it…?”

“You’re not bleeding, no.” I whispered. He nodded once, wincing hard, and I broke out into a moan.

“Copia, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch it.”

“It’s okay, Sister.” He sounded just as upset as I was, studying my face anxiously. 

“I hurt you! Are you okay?” I clambered off his lap, snatching my underwear from an equally horrified looking Papa to pull them on.

“Please, Sister, I’m -”

“Shit.” Papa stumbled to his feet. We watched a fresh puddle of blood spill out into the gauze; my stomach dropped, and I moaned. Copia lightly touched the soaked gauze and regarded the blood on his finger with a sigh, then got to his feet, adjusting the waistband of his pants quickly. 

As he passed me, his other hand reached out and he brushed his thumb over my chin, eyes soft as he looked down at my lips, and then up into my eyes.

“I’m okay, cuore mio.” He whispered, then he was gone, heading towards the bathroom again.

I sighed heavily, picking my shirt up and hugging it to my chest for a minute while I stared after him.

“Why he say this, cara mia?” 

I glanced over at Papa where he was seated on the couch again, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” I muttered.

“He says, ‘I miss you’. Why this?”

“We didn’t see each other for days.” I mumbled, tugging the shirt on. It settled on the fresh bites on my shoulder, which I rubbed at absentmindedly. 

“Why?” His brow had creased now, and I regarded him again with a little frown.

“He was beating himself up because of what happened at the ritual.”

Papa blinked, face blank, and it was hard not to roll my eyes.

“The Blood Moon ritual. He messed some of it up and he got upset.”

“Blood Moon ritual?” Papa echoed, rising to his feet and staring at me. “This was…?” 

“On the Blood Moon.” I chuckled. I really wasn’t in the mood to laugh, but his expression was freaking me out. “The night you were busy. Imperator had Copia do the ritual instead of you, remember?” 

He cast his eyes away, and for the second time that morning, my stomach dropped.

“Papa?” I muttered, my hand coming to cup his cheek. “What’s up?”

“I was not busy this night, Sister.” He mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what ya think x


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After travelling back, things go awry between the three.

Papa didn’t say much of anything on the way home. He insisted that Copia share our transport and it was only when we left the hotel and he saw his bag being loaded into the back of a limo equally as flashy as the first the colour drained from his face. It was too late to back out, though, and at Papa’s strangely authoritative stare he climbed into the back obediently.

Inside, the air was thick. I cracked open a window but it did little to quell the atmosphere stretching over us all. Copia looked entirely out of place perched in his cassock on the black leather seats, eyes travelling warily over the glitz and luxury of the bar and interior. Papa reclined on the back seat once more; I could feel his eyes burning into me as I got inside. His expression was impassive, but his lip twitched when I sauntered past him and went to sit by myself, away from them both. I wasn’t about to play his game. I couldn’t decipher his mood, and that was always a dangerous thing. 

Other than shaking his head at my offer of a drink, Copia barely moved. Papa lounged on the seat, scrolling through his phone, while I helped myself to a champagne glass of pink lemonade. I was back in the habit, having only brought the one outfit change for the conference itself, and I felt both pairs of eyes on me when I pulled off the veil, stifled. 

After a while of sitting in silence, all of us listening to the whirring of machinery and the crunch of the tires on the road, Papa suddenly tossed his phone aside carelessly and beckoned me over. 

“Come, cara mia.” 

I set the glass in a holder and sidled over to him, eyes narrowing. I still couldn’t read his expression; as soon as I was close enough he snatched me down into a bruising kiss, knocking the air from my lungs. I had to cling to him to stop myself from falling onto the floor at the sudden jolt, struggling to keep up with his bizarrely needy mouth. He was kissing me like a teenager who was getting to make out for the first time; sloppy, and pretty gross. When I pulled away to hiss in some air he continued theatrically, and I noticed his eyes were on the Cardinal, who was frozen in his seat.

I pushed him away with a frown, and then his hand was on my thigh.

“Papa.” I muttered.

It was enough. His little display stopped abruptly. He sat back, arms folding, looking out of the window to sulk. 

What the hell was all that about? I raised an eyebrow at Copia who just shrugged, chewing his lip. Any attempts at conversation with Papa resulted in grunts or shrugs, and in the end I gave up, returning to my side of the limo to drown myself in pink lemonade. It was so sweet it made me feel sick.

I was glad when the city outside faded into countryside, and then into dark woodland; between the trees, hidden away from everyone else was home, rapidly approaching us on a dirt path the limo struggled to fit down. 

In a break of the trees the vast silhouette of the abbey loomed, and I had never been so relieved to see the dusty old building in my life. Copia had stared at the floor for the majority of the trip and Papa was refusing to talk to me; I was the first one out, scampering past Papa when the door opened and sucking in lungfuls of cold air as it struck me in the face, the wind whipping my hair and making my eyes stream. I noticed the silver masks of a few Ghouls twinkling in the light amidst the dark tree trunks, peering out at our arrival; I waved jovially, and one waved back. 

Two Ghouls were already unloading the trunk, bowing their heads at Papa when he barged out of the vehicle and made straight for the front entrance, not bothering to take off his sunglasses even though the weather was miserable as always. Copia traipsed out eventually, shaking out the skirt of his cassock and meandering into the abbey. 

Casting one last look around outside, I followed them in. 

Just inside, Papa had been stopped by his father, Copia waiting anxiously a few paces away. The energy emanating from Papa was hostile enough to want me to stay back, too; Nihil was questioning him in slow, wheezy Italian, and Papa snapped some responses back at him. 

How did the conference go? Did we make any new connections with other sects? Did we leave a good impression? 

Papa spoke quickly, at once point his thumb jerked over at Copia, who visibly flinched, chewing his lip. Nihil’s grave face only seemed to droop more as the conversation unfolded, and then Papa was storming away, turning to throw a final phrase over his shoulder before he slammed into his office. 

“Un fottuto disastro.” 

A fucking disaster. Copia exhaled quickly, watching Nihil hobble over to him, and they began to speak; quietly, probably conscious I was there, although I wasn’t entirely sure Nihil remembered I could speak Italian. 

I busied myself with the two Ghouls from outside as they brought in our bags, organising Papa’s into a pile nonchalantly while my ears strained. Nihil was soft-spoken anyway, and his whisper was almost indecipherable - but I heard two words that told me exactly what the topic of conversation was: ‘mio figlio’, my son.  
They were talking about Papa, and Nihil was shaking his head, looking incredibly pissed off. He gave Copia a pat on the shoulder and a crooked smile that the Cardinal didn’t return; instead, he just stared at him, eyes wide with panic, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

This wasn’t good. 

“Congratulazioni, Cardinale.” 

This /really/ wasn’t good. Heart hammering, I waited until Nihil was far enough away before I was on Copia, tugging impatiently at his sleeve while he stared after the ancient patriarch. 

“What did he say? Copia? What did he say to you?”

The Cardinal blinked and then glanced down at me, huffing like he’d just noticed I was there. His eyes drifted back up as the door closed and I yanked at his sleeve, trying not to panic, and failing horrifically. 

“Copia, please.” I begged, heart hammering against my ribcage. “Please. What did he say to you?”

Placid as anything, Copia met my eyes, face impassive under the gauze. With a tiny shrug, he shook his head.

“Nothing.” He muttered. 

“Copia -”

“I have to go, Sister.” He whispered. To my horror, he reached over and peeled my fingers from the fabric of his sleeve; but he held my hand for a moment, eyes cast down to contemplate it silently. After a beat, he bowed to bring my fingers to his mouth, and I could feel his lips trembling.

“Cuore mio.” He sighed, and then he left, leaving me alone in the empty hall. 

 

As soon as I entered Papa’s quarters, I knew something was deeply wrong. He was drinking, for a start, which he never did unless there was an occasion for it. He did anything he could to not be compared to his brother, the former Papa - whom I never met, but had heard enough stories about to understand why. He hadn’t changed, either, in the hours since we’d returned; he didn’t even look up at me when I entered, staring fixedly at the glass in his hand. A bottle of vodka was tucked beside him, between him and the arm of the chair. 

I called his name and he didn’t respond. Everything in his demeanour told me that approaching him was a bad idea, but I felt sick to my stomach with what I’d heard in the hall. And the fact that Copia wasn’t telling me definitely meant something was up. I was shocked to find that he’d actually keep something from me, and shocked by how much it hurt. Neither of the men in my life were right, and I didn’t know how to correct it. 

“Papa.” I said again, perching on the sofa adjacent to him. He exhaled sharply, not even glancing my way.

“Pa-”

“What?” He snapped; I shrank back. I’d never heard that tone from him before, and it shook me to my core. A cold sweat broke out on the nape of my neck, and I licked my lips nervously. 

I didn’t even know where to begin. The weight of what I’d overheard was weighing heavily on my shoulders but I knew that even hinting at the worst case scenario of what that conversation was about would probably jet Papa over the edge. 

“What, Sister?” He repeated. He hadn’t called me Sister in months, and it stung as if he’d actually hit me. Fighting hard not to burst into tears, I just looked at him helplessly until his head snapped up to glare. 

“Why do you come here? You want what?” 

“I don’t know.” I whimpered, and his lip curled. He sat up suddenly, slamming the glass onto the coffee table so hard I jumped.

“You don’t know this?” He mimicked. “Maybe it is for what you always come for, yes? You see your Papa for a fuck, then you leave?”

“No?” I gasped, the skirts of my habit clenched into my fists. “What -?” 

“No? No?” He leaned forward. Tears trickled down my face, unchecked; I was frozen in place by his furious, mismatched gaze. “No more, yes? You have him now. You don’t have need of me, yes?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I whispered. He stood up quickly, and I had to dive forward to catch the vodka bottle before it hit the floor. I’d just about managed to get it on the table when he was over me, eyes bright with tears, and the sight shocked me so much I couldn’t speak.

His usually carefree, handsome face was etched with pain like I had never seen. The sorrow that raged behind his eyes yanked the air from my lungs; an ugly sob wrenched itself from my throat and I reached for him, desperate to hold him together, but he pulled away with a violent jerk.

“You just -” His anger only intensified as he failed to articulate himself, the frustration turning his neck and ears bright red. “You do not - “

“I love you, you fucking idiot.” I whispered.

It was like cutting the wire of a bomb. He stopped dead and just stared at me, studying my face. 

And then, he was crying.

Papa fell back into the seat, put his head in his hands, and sobbed. It took me a few minutes to get over the shock, physically reeling from side to side on wobbly legs as I watched him, and then I dropped to my knees and crept over to him, insistently tugging on his hands until I could see his face. He wrenched away from me again but I grabbed at him, my fists clinging to whatever they could.

“No, cara.” He choked. “Non mi menti. Don’t say this. My heart -” He grasped at his chest, gesturing wildly, trying to turn his face so I wouldn’t see his tears. 

I said it again, more forcefully this time, and he hissed quietly. My fingers crept up the side of his face to thread into his hair, tugging his head over to look at me.

“You do not.” He whimpered, and I began peppering kisses all over his wet cheeks. 

“Vero, Papa.” I mumbled between kisses. He crumpled against me, breathing hard.

“Do you think he’s replaced you?” 

The words sliced him like a knife. He jolted and groaned, shaking his head quickly, then shrugging. 

“You stupid, silly man. You big Italian idiot.” I was chuckling dementedly through my own tears, pressing my forehead against his to try and stop him from shaking. “I love you, I love you. I know I - I know it looks like I only come to you for - but I promise, Papa, I do. I didn’t want to believe it myself. I didn’t think in a million years you would care enough about me for me to even dream of loving you. But you have owned part of my heart since the first time your hand touched mine.”

“You leave?” He muttered. “You see me for this, and then you leave.” 

“I know.” I whined. My fingers twisted the locks of his hair and he sighed, his breathing finally slowing. “I only did it because I didn’t want to get attached to you. I thought… I thought I was just another fuck for you, and didn’t want to get feelings. So I ran away each time… but… holy fuck…” 

His lips met mine. I cupped his jaw and kissed him back, head spinning.

“Scusami.” He murmured. “I’m sorry. Scared.”

He started to shake again, lips pressed together in a tight line.

“I never say this to you, amore. I never want to say it, but… my brother. He is here, at the church; I am not. I am away. I hear for a few months that my father is not happy, yes? My brother is not a very good Papa. And then… a call. Imperator. She calls, she says, ‘come back to the church, you are Papa now’.” 

Papa peeled my hands from his face to clasp them between his own, breathing in shakily. 

“Cara, I never know what happens to him. He just…. Vanished.” 

My blood ran cold. From what older Sisters had told me when I first joined, Papa the Second stepped down from his role, and died a few weeks later. Everyone assumed it was health problems. Now, seeing the fear plainly visible on my Papa’s face, I was sick to my stomach. He was looking at me expectantly; immediately, my mind ran back to Nihil and Copia, and I struggled not to burst into fresh tears. 

What would I do without him? Nihil surely wouldn’t do anything to Papa. It was his son. But then again, that didn’t seem to have stopped him in the past… 

Whimpering, I staggered to my feet and clutched him against me, so tight I heard him wheeze. His hands grabbed at my back, tugging at the fabric while he shuddered and moaned. 

“Morto.” He whispered, voice thick with fear. “Sono morto, cara mia. I know this.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare say that to me again.” I hissed, tipping his head up so he would look at me. Bloodshot bleary eyes studied my face, contorting quickly as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. Some of his paint had smeared onto my habit, and I could taste it when I kissed him carefully all over his face, the salt of his tears stinging my lips. 

His hands circled my wrists and he pulled me closer to him, his breath making my skin tingle. I was close enough to hear the wavering of his voice as he spoke, his lips at the shell of my ear.

“Know this, amore. You must know this. If… If I go…” 

I began to shake my head but he hissed desperately, holding me steady so he could finish.

“If I go, I must know you know this…”

Breath caught in my lungs, eyes closed, I waited. His lips traced over the outer edge of my ear and he exhaled softly. 

“Ti amo, amore.” 

My knees wobbled. My heart flooded completely, and I was crying again; bitter, angry tears that it was this - this fucked up situation - that made him say it to me.

A small kiss on my neck and his lips returned. 

“I love you.” 

 

He wasn’t in his office, his quarters were locked. 

I tore through the entire library searching for him, but he wasn’t to be seen. I had horrible visions of him in Nihil’s office, the two of them plotting whatever it was they were going to do. I must have caught the eyes of quite a few bystanders - a Sister dashing about dementedly, tear-stained, habit coated in black and white paint - but I was beyond caring. I was going to find him if it killed me. 

Room after room lay empty. I had no idea where he’d be other than his usual haunts; Copia wasn’t the type to wander out of his comfort zone. I sneaked past Imperator’s office and found her in there with Nihil, the two of them laughing over some food. It made some of the sickening anxiety wrapping around my stomach loosen slightly, but until I had answers I wouldn’t be able to stop the bile from rising in my throat.

Just when I was all out of ideas, preparing to go brave the weather to trawl the gardens for the man, the smell of incense hit me as soon as I turned a corner and, in the same moment, I knew instantly where he was. 

The chapel was dark, save for the candles, the sunset illuminating his jet black silhouette, the sharp lines of the biretta stark against the pink sky. Seated on the front pew, gazing up at nothing with the Grucifix rosary in his hands, Copia didn’t notice me until I was in his periphery, blinking rapidly before he could focus his eyes on me. 

“Sister…?” He scanned over my face, concern blooming on his own at my wretched expression. “Sister -”

“Don’t. Stay there.” I murmured. My tone made him shiver, his brow knitting, he stared up at me. I stood before him, my shadow blocking the light from the window, casting him in darkness. The white eye glinted nonetheless, his lips parted as he struggled to level his breathing. The hands that gripped the rosary were shaking already.

“What were you and Nihil talking about, Copia?” 

I kept my voice low, but he flinched like I’d shouted at him. His shoulders dipped but he was unable to tear his eyes from my own, panic growing in his face. I could see his brain whirring, and his brow ease as he came up with something. Such tiny movements I would have missed when we had first met, and now I could read him like a book, even with his face half-covered in gauze. He opened his mouth to speak - and snapped it shut when I held a finger up to him.

“Do you remember what I said to you? When we were alone in the hotel room?” 

The Cardinal nodded slowly, huffing out a quavering breath. My heart hurt. My head hurt. I wanted to curl up in my bed and sob until sleep consumed me so I didn’t have to deal with this all. 

“Good.” I muttered. “I’m not sure exactly how you feel about that, but you know, at least. I need you to remember that. And also - you know, I feel the same about him.”  
Another nod, another shaky exhale. My hands back at my side, they tightened into fists until my nails bit into my own flesh. 

“Please.” I whispered. “I’m going to ask you, Copia, and I want you to remember how much you mean to me. How much he means to me, too. I don’t care if you think I don’t want to hear the answer. Tell me the truth.”

After a moment, the Cardinal gave a tiny nod. His lips pressed into a tight line, and I already knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is a little short compared to others; I can only take these emotions in small chunks :'C


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister wants answers. The three of them need to do some reconciling. 
> 
> cw for blood.

Gloves creaked over the beads. Copia let out an anguished little noise, head tilting to one side, his eyes still burning into my own. 

He wasn’t going to say it. 

It was if all the breath had been knocked from my body. Knees wobbling, I swayed slightly - he reached to steady me, and I slapped his hand away, glaring at him until he withered back into the pew.

“Did you know?”

His tongue flickered between his lips and he swallowed hard.

“S-Sister?” 

“Did you know from the start?” 

He stared at me, eyes bright with incredulity. Every second of his silence only fed my anger. I wanted to throttle him.

“You did, didn’t you? You said it to me. You said Imperator said there could be a permanent position.”

“No.” He whispered. “No, no.” 

“I don’t think I believe you.” 

My cheeks were wet. It wasn’t until I felt something drip off my jaw I realised I was crying. All the colour had drained from his face, his pallor pale and tinged green. 

“Please.” He rasped. “Sister, please - stay. I can’t -” 

A wretched moan wrenched from his lips and he turned away from me, a tear glinting down his good cheek. I wanted to leave. I wanted to go to Papa, and sit and try to think of something we could do. But as I was looking at the Cardinal, something resonated in me that kept me from doing so; he was flustered, and he was panicking, but he wasn’t lying. I knew, in that moment, he wouldn’t dream of lying to me.

So I stood and waited while he gathered his words, watching his sleeve rise quickly to brush away the stray tear. His breath trembled in the otherwise silent chapel.   
When he was calm enough, he tried again.

“I was contacted by the Sister regarding translation work. After… after I arrived, she mentioned the possibility of it being a permanent transfer, if I did the right work. I… didn’t know what that meant. And then… the pieces began to fall into place, Sister. His father would discuss his shortcomings with me. Then, the Sister informed me I was to do the ritual.”

“She didn’t tell Papa about that.” I replied flatly. “She’d told me Papa was busy that night, and he wasn’t.”

Copia shrugged, eyes cast down. 

“I don’t want this to happen, Sister.” He muttered.

I frowned. Something wasn’t quite adding up in his story. He regarded me warily as I dropped down onto the wooden pew beside him, staring up at nothing. He hadn’t stopped twisting his fingers around the rosary beads since we’d began talking. He was about halfway through the string, and it struck me as oddly charming. We weren’t taught that by this Church, to pray each bead individually - it must be something from his past, something he was now falling back on out of instinct. 

“Tell me this, then.” I looked over at him. His brow was knitted but his attention was completely on me; other than his fingers working over the beads, he was completely still. 

“If you don’t want to… replace Papa…” Just saying the words hurt. A swell of panic rose in my throat like bile, and I paused to swallow it back down. “Why have you been trying so hard?”

Copia inhaled sharply and looked away. My hand found its way onto his thigh, grabbing and jerking at the fabric there, as fresh fear turned my stomach.

“The ritual. You were so upset that it went wrong. All this extra work. Why would you do it, if not to take his place?” 

I’d never seen him shake so hard, and I was immediately infuriated again. So, I was wrong. He would lie to me. He had. 

In the scarce light I could see his clenched jaw, his tight lips - doing nothing to stop his chin from trembling. My heart hammered so loud I could hear it in my temples; I snatched at his clothes again.

“Well?” 

Copia’s breath quaked as he exhaled slowly, trying and failing to compose himself. He couldn’t look at me. I snapped at him, and each time I did he curled up tighter into himself, recoiling away from my fury like a scared child. 

I’d had enough. I’d clearly caught him out, and he didn’t know what to say to me. I genuinely felt sick to my stomach. Tears rained down my face, completely overshadowed by the bitter, brutal anger of being betrayed. 

Stumbling, I got to my feet, only managing a disgusted hiss at him. I couldn’t see his face; he’d hidden himself completely, muffling his sobs into his glove. 

It was only when I started to leave his hand reached out and seized my arm, and at the sight of his face I sank to my knees, the wind knocked from my lungs. An expression of such deplorable, deep lament warped his exhausted face that it tore my heart from my chest and had me sobbing beside him in seconds, unable to look away even though it hurt the deepest reaches of my soul to see him like this. They must have threatened him with something truly awful for him to get in this sort of state.   
Above the mess of my brain - above the vicious, unstoppable racing of my mind - a single thought surfaced. I wanted to take Copia by one hand, take Papa by the other, and lead us off to a sunny beach somewhere where neither of them would ever have to worry every again. 

“What is it?” I was struggling to breathe, but I managed it. His brow creased further and he shook his head, breathing in to try and compose himself. 

“I can’t stay.” He uttered. 

“What?”

“I take his position. Or I leave.”

“No.” I replied, plainly. “No, you have a job here.”

“Do you understand, cuore mio?” He whispered, reaching out blindly to clutch for my hand, squeezing it between his unbearably tight. “They… they told me what happened to his brother…”

“Don’t tell me.” I interrupted. “Do not fucking tell me.”

Copia nodded a little, throat contracting as he swallowed. He took the opportunity to wipe at his face, smearing black paint in the process; huffing, he shuddered, watching his thumb tracing reverently over the back of my hand.

“That’s my choice.” He muttered. He sounded a little more like his usual self; steady, pensive. “I take his place, and leave him to that fate. Or…” His eyes screwed up momentarily and then they were on me, clouded with tears. “I never see you again.” 

The silence of the chapel was deafening. Nausea suddenly swamped me, and I had to rest my head on his lap for a few seconds while I tried to process what he’d said.   
“There must be something we can do.” I whispered; his hand smoothed over my hair, and I closed my eyes. My entire body was exhausted. The prospect of running away with the two of them and sleeping on a tropical island somewhere was becoming ever more alluring. 

“I wouldn’t mind.” His whisper made me pick up my head to look at him, but he kept stroking my hair, keeping me flat and looking away from him. 

“I wouldn’t mind, Sister. If I had come here, and found all this out, I would say no, immediately. I have no interest in leading the Church. I know that… my refusal… would more than likely bring me to the fate they have planned for him. And I wouldn’t mind. My life, as it turns out, has been quite unremarkable.” 

I breathed his name, and he shushed me gently before continuing. 

“But now… ah... I believe I’d be rather happy with living forever… provided that…” 

I so desperately wanted to look at him. His hand moved until his thumb grazed over my cheek, and he sighed softly.

“Would you let me by your side forever, cuore mio?” 

“Of course.” I choked. He lightly patted my cheek, breath wavering again. I closed my eyes, and he fell silent for a long time. 

“In the hotel room.” His voice was thick; it made me wince. “You told me something. And you said… you said you’d tell me when I could say it.”

Wriggling out from under his touch, I gazed up at him. Fresh tears were rolling down his paint-smeared cheeks but he was rather calm, peering down at me with a fondness I couldn’t help smiling at. My strange little man. Picking up his hand, I pressed my lips to his knuckles - just like he did to me in his quaint, sweet way.

“I know.” I whispered. “And though I’d really like to hear it, Copia, don’t say it just yet.”

His face fell slightly but he nodded, cupping my face into his warm hand. I’d already had one confession stolen from me by this brewing disaster. I wanted at least one of them to be right. 

“I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

Copia’s shoulders raised in a small shrug and he combed his fingers into my hair, the rosary dangling from his wrist. Studying my face for a moment, I watched the corners of his mouth twitch in a smile. He pressed his lips to my forehead, and I closed my heavy eyes with a sigh. 

“I’m gonna fix this.” I muttered, and he sighed, shaking his head. 

“I’m not sure you can, my dear.”

 

Copia walked me to the main staircase. I’d attempted to clean up his face somewhat with my sleeve but he’d brushed me off, past caring. We didn’t encounter anyone on the trip from the chapel to the hall, anyway; upon reaching the mouth of the stairwell, he dared slide his hand into my own and give it a small squeeze. 

Through all the panic, and all the emotions, I’d somehow overlooked a very glaring issue. The gauze layered onto his face was stiff with dried blood, and now streaked with black paint. It didn’t look like he’d bothered to take it off before applying it.

“Have you been to the infirmary?” I asked; he paused, eyes flickering up to regard me. 

“Why?” 

“Your… your face.” 

A small frown lining his lips, his hand reached and brushed over the swathe of cotton, and then tightened into a fist. He shook his head.

“It’s fine.” He grumbled. 

I was altogether sure it wasn’t. Although I hadn’t really seen the extent of the damage - he’d covered it with his hand as soon as he realised what had happened himself - it must be bad to keep opening and bleeding as much as it did. I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it was. The gauze cut diagonally across his white eye to cover the slash that ran over his left brow, thankfully skipping over the eye itself but resuming in a wound I could just about see snaking down from the sensitive under-eye area. It didn’t look pretty. And I had a grim suspicion he’d painted straight over it. 

“Copia, if you won’t let the nurse see to it, will you let me?”

His breath rushed from his nose and he closed his eyes briefly.

“It’s fine.” He repeated. “Sister, please. Get some rest.” 

“You know I can’t.” My fingers ached to touch him but we were out in public now; it was with a little shock I realised I didn’t particularly care anymore if anyone saw me with either of them, but I wasn’t sure if Copia would want the extra attention. “I have duties.” 

The worst kind; babysitting the first year juniors. They always ran wild. 

“No. You’ll rest.” He pressed. “I’ll sign you off your duties.” 

“Imperator will be pissed.”

“I don’t care.” 

I traced a fingertip down his sleeve, eyes lowering to watch it. He was wearing the red cassock today; the black one was probably having the blood being scrubbed out of it in the laundry room. The fabric was thick and soft, and I imagined curling up in it. 

“I’ll rest.” 

He bowed his head in relief, and my fingers danced over his. 

“Your bed?” 

“If you wish.” 

“Will you join me?” 

His eyes widened. Copia blew out his breath, trying not to grimace.

“Forgive me, Sister. I’m not quite in the mood…”

“To sleep, idiot. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything so uncouth with you.” I tutted, and he chuckled lightly. The sound made my heart warm. 

“I have something I need to do. You’re more than welcome to rest there, though.”

The concept of sleeping in his bed instead of my own was far more appealing. We fell into step beside each other, meandering our way through the stone-lined corridors to the library.

“What is it?” I asked, as we headed through the door; the large, dusty room with its strange smell of old books had become like home to me by now. Each bookcase we passed was now organised and freshly relabelled - row after row of sets of books placed neatly beside each other, the hard work of one anxiety-ridden insomniac to organise hundreds of years worth of a collection. 

He looked blank, glancing over at me. He was clearly exhausted, and I wondered if there would be anything I could say to get him to sleep with me for a while. 

“What is it that you need to do?” I clarified. Humming, he led me around the aisles towards the back door, involuntarily plucking a book from a shelf as he passed and tucking it under his arm.

“I’m not sure if I’m wanted.” He muttered. I opened the door for him but he just looked at me. I was too tired to argue, so I swept through, hearing him beetle in quickly behind me. 

“What duties do you have?” 

Copia was fishing around his cassock, juggling the book from one arm to the other. 

“Nothing scheduled.” He murmured. “But there’s something I could do.”

“So you’re actually free now, then? Can’t you come rest with me?” I was pleading with him, and it almost worked; his brow softened and his head tilted as he looked at me, sighing quietly. 

“If I’m not wanted, I’ll come.”

That was good enough for me. Stood at the door, I watched him double check his pockets until he retrieved a brass key, sticking into the lock of his quarters and pushing the door open for me. He pulled it from the lock, and pressed it into my hand, the metal chilling my clammy skin.

“You can lock it behind you.” 

“How will you get in?”

A shrug.

“I’ll knock.”

Grabbing his hand, I tugged him in far enough that I could kiss him without him getting stressed out. I had to be so careful; my first instinct was to cup his face in my hands, but of course his cheek was too damaged for me to do so. Instead, I threaded my fingers into his hair on his good side, the hand holding the key pressing lightly into his chest. 

Copia’s breath hitched as our lips met and before long his tongue was sweeping into my mouth; a sudden nip at my lower lip made me jump, and his arms circled tighter around me.

“You sure you’re not in the mood?” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath - but he pulled away, smiling his shy smile, and shook his head.

“Well, alright. I wouldn’t want to put you through something so strenuous when you’re so delicate.” I cooed, my fingers hovering just over the gauze. Copia scoffed and pulled away, shaking his head in amusement.

“Rest, Sister.” 

 

There was no knock at the door. When I awoke, I was so surrounded in his smell that I thought he had somehow snuck in to curl up with me - but it was just his sheets, tangled around me. I’d stripped down to my underwear to save my habit from creasing and relished the feeling of lazing in his bed. Burying my face in his pillow, I was asleep in minutes. 

Though not entirely restful, the sleep did enough to calm my head to the point where I could think straight. Staring up at a crack in the ceiling, I considered what he’d said to me. I’d have to go see Papa. There had to be something he could do. 

I’d slept long enough for the day to be drawing to a close. Outside, the sun was setting - the sky was painted with puffs of pink and baby blue, the light illuminating through the clouds like a night light. It took me a moment to find the brass key, lost among the twisted bed sheets, but once it was safe in my hand I wriggled back into the habit and slipped my shoes back on. Despite my best attempts, his bed didn’t look quite as neat as it had done when I finished remaking it. He struck me as the type of guy who would want to do it himself anyway. 

After locking the door behind me, I could see there was no light coming from under the door of his office - so he’d either finished up his work and left me to sleep, or was doing it elsewhere. The former would be typical of him. I half expected him to be sprawled out, snoring, on one of the old library couches, but the room was dark and empty as I passed through it. 

I needed to tell Papa everything. Being as volatile as he currently was, the last thing anyone needed was for him to take out his fear induced wrath on Copia.   
With every step I took down the winding halls to Papa’s office, I tried to rehearse a script in my head of what I wanted to say - however, it was next to impossible to find the right words, the ones I know would disarm him. Seeing as I couldn’t pinpoint his mood, I didn’t know what I needed to say. It was terrifying. 

I didn’t knock, as always, and when I entered, I noticed the room was rather cold. The fire must have burned down hours ago; I could smell wood ash mixed in with the usual incense. Once I closed the door, and turned to greet him, I noticed he wasn’t alone. 

Copia and Papa sat at the desk, hefty piles of paper and documents scattered between them. All of his cabinets were open - cabinets Papa only ever interacted with when he was shoving invoices into them to be forgotten. As a result, quite a lot of the papers looked chewed up from being crumpled, but Copia had carefully smoothed them out and arranged them into respective stacks. The Cardinal’s face was one of concentration, so much so that he didn’t realise I’d arrived - but Papa, glowering with boredom, lit up at the sight of me.

“Cara mia!” 

Copia’s head snapped up, and then he was blushing, shrinking back in his seat a little like I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. 

“What’s going on?” 

I scanned the organised chaos as I approached, eyes widening. There was so much of it - and so much that needed filling it, it seemed. On the desk beside Papa lay two dried up ink pads, and his official stamp resting in a recently opened one for easy access. Papa rolled his eyes and stretched; like Copia, he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and Papa was wearing a shirt and pants instead of his normal fancy attire. Copia’s biretta rested on a nearby display case, and a few buttons at the top of the cassock were undone, revealing the black shirt underneath. 

“The Cardinal comes to help me.”

He was smiling, but there was an edge to his tone that I didn’t like. He wasn’t really looking at Copia, and Copia fidgeted in his seat every now and then, the pen shaking slightly in his grip before it moved over the paper before him. He shrugged, and Papa smirked over at him.

“Good, yes? Kind.”

“Yeah.” As I neared, I wondered if he’d been drinking again. I didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not, and neither did Copia, it seemed. 

“He comes and he says, we do this paper work. We do the catching of the up. He says, we do this, and your father does not get you killed so I take your place.”

“Stop.” Copia muttered, not looking up. Papa scoffed and pushed himself away from the desk, shrugging.

“I don’t take the orders from you yet, Cardinal.” He hissed, and I was between them in seconds, glaring at Papa until he leaned against the wall with a pout.

“You know he’s doing this in his free time? He’s doing this instead of getting medical attention?” 

Papa’s lower lip wobbled but he stayed silent. 

“Papa, you’re -” I drew in my breath and laughed, trying my best to dissolve the horrid atmosphere. “You’re exactly that! You’re Papa. You’re the leader of the Church. Copia says he doesn’t want to do it. So what can they do to you?” 

“He says this.” Papa muttered. “But perhaps, not mean this.”

“He’s been here for the past - what, four hours? - doing your fucking paperwork for you. I understand you’re stressed, and upset, and worried - but Satan below, please - pull yourself together.”

I’d never spoken to him like that. Behind me, Copia wheezed, the pen clattering onto the desk. Papa’s eyes widened, his jaw hanging open. He snapped it closed and scoffed.

“I am Papa.” He mumbled. “This is right. Yes.”

“Yes. You’re Papa. And he’s Cardinal. And I’m some poor Sister who’s going to have an aneurysm one of these days.” As much as I wanted to sit down, I needed him to sit instead; grabbing his sleeve, I piloted him back over and parked him down. He continued to sulk, but he was doing as he was told, at least. I perched myself on the edge of the desk, hovering over them like a hawk.

Copia’s hand flexed a few times. I couldn’t quite see his face from where I was standing, due to the gauze - but his lips parted, waiting until Papa finished disgustedly stamping at some papers and shoved them in his direction.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I’m sorry about all of this. I… I had no idea that my transfer was leading to this.” 

“Certo.” Papa clucked his tongue, squinting at something illegible scrawled on a scrap of paper. 

Copia’s head dipped lower, and he sighed.

“You don’t believe me. But I’m not interested in… in replacing you, your Unholiness.” 

Papa stiffened, eyes sweeping over to the other man. 

“Certo…”

“I swore an oath. Many years ago. To serve our Dark Lord and to serve our Leader.” Copia couldn’t bring himself to look at Papa, and I could see the tips of his ears were turning red. “What sort of man would I be to do something so detrimental to the church?”

“Leader.” Papa murmured. 

“I can only apologise.” Copia’s eyes closed. His hands had fallen into his lap, wringing slowly. “Truly. I… I feel…”

To my surprise, Papa leaned over and rested his hand on Copia’s shoulder - who jumped, glancing over at him warily. 

“Va bene, Cardinale.”

Copia pressed his lips together for a moment, studying Papa’s face. Then, his head dipped, a rumbly sigh spilling from his lips. 

“Grazie, your Excellence.”

At first, I didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose — but apparently not. Copia seemed entirely unaware of his word’s influence on Papa, who was biting down harder at his lip with each second that passed. Another squeeze of his shoulder, and a little nod to accompany it.

“Va bene.” He repeated, his voice dripping in a tone I knew all too well. Copia’s eyes closed once more, his brow knitting slightly. 

“Your forgiveness brings me comfort.” He said, quietly. “Perhaps it is my years prior to the Church… I still feel like I must pay penance.”

“Hmm? And how do you do this, Cardinal? A few Ave Maria? Padre Nostro?” Papa’s tone turned playful. Copia didn’t even notice him stroking lightly at his neck; too caught up in his guilt.

“Our sect of Satanism has no prayers of intercession. I’ve searched.”

“You do not have to seek the forgiveness. I give it to you already.”

An anguished little noise; Copia rubbed at his forehead.

“Y-yes. But… I feel…” 

He wasn’t going to feel any better until he’d served some sort of punishment. Ever since I’d seen him pray the rosary earlier, I’d had a suspicion the Cardinal had spent a portion of his life under Catholicism. It made sense, from the little I knew about him. This only solidified it in my mind.

Papa hummed, eyes shining.

“You feel you need the… ah… repentance, yes?”

Copia nodded slowly, and Papa clucked his tongue again, leaning back in his chair.

“Interessante. As you say, we do not have the prayers for this. You look for the absolution.”

“Please.” He mumbled, staring down at his hands. 

Smirking, Papa reached across, his fingers curling under Copia’s chin to turn his head towards him. Panic surged to his features, but Papa’s expression remained soft.

“You say something earlier, Cardinal. Something interesting. You say you swear an oath to serve your Papa.”

A staccato nod. 

“Perhaps…” Papa’s thumb trailed over Copia’s plump lower lip. “You repent this way.”

It was insane to see how quickly Papa’s words took effect on the Cardinal. Eyelids drooping, jaw slackening, Copia just nodded.

“You displease your Papa. So he punishes you.” Papa leaned in close, and I was only just about to make out what he said: “But only if you want this.”

“Yes.” Copia whispered hurriedly. “Please.”

Poor, guilty boy. He’d opened a can of worms now; I knew from experience. As I sat there, watching them, my heart began to race as I wondered what Papa would do to him - he was especially brilliant at coming up with strange little fancies, and it was going to be interesting to see what he was going to do to someone other than myself.  
His lips traced over the bridge of Copia’s nose, who was stock-still, eyes burning over at me. Papa’s voice was a purr, loud enough for me to hear.

“You make me feel like… ah… you are trying to take over. Not very nice. Sneaky - I think it is this word. Come… un verme. Ah. How you say this?”

“Rat.” Copia uttered, and Papa nodded slowly, a smile creasing his face.

“Bene, bene. So tell me, little rat - you tell me this, without this flush and not speaking. You do as your Papa wishes. You tell me, right now…” Still clutching his chin, Papa held him firmly in place as he traced his tongue over his lower lip, humming his approval with a small shudder. 

“What do you like to do the most with the Sister?”

Well, shit. Looked like I was getting pulled into this. I wondered what he was cooking up in that strange mind of his. 

Copia swallowed hard, and then shrugged. Papa’s thumbnail bit into the skin of his chin, and Copia exhaled quickly.

“Whatever she wants.” He whispered, and Papa rolled his eyes.

“I did not ask you this. What do you like? Tell me this. Now.”

“Taste her.” Copia rasped. “I love… to taste her.”

Papa hummed again, his lips hovering over Copia’s. His legs were jittering but he was staying still from the waist up, hands gripping each other in his lap. 

“Why this?”

“Noises. Taste.” Copia paused, eyes closing. 

“You like it when she cums on your tongue?”

Copia nodded quickly.

“Ah, vedo. You… you wish to please. You like to make her feel good, and then you can feel good. Vero?”

Another nod, and Papa kissed the tip of his nose before pulling away abruptly, abandoning the Cardinal entirely to come over to me. He threw a glance at him over his shoulder, and gestured briefly at the piles of paperwork. 

“You be a good rat, and continue this. Cara and me, we leave. I do what you love most to her while you do this. I call you in when I have need of you again.”

I didn’t get much of a say. Papa steered me towards the door of his quarters; when I glanced back, Copia’s head was down, pen scribbling furiously over some documents.   
Papa left the door open, and led me to his room, but he let go of me at the door and went to seat himself on the bed, rubbing his forehead with a grimace.

“What makes you think I’m taking part in this?”

He glanced up from where he was kicking off his shoes and shrugged.

“You do not. He only thinks this.”

I frowned, and his eyebrow quirked as he lay back on the bed, staring over at me.

“Yes?”

“So... you don’t want to?”

He burst out laughing at that. Head shaking, locks of his hair fell over his face until he tossed them away.

“Cara, I only ever do to you what you want.”

“I dunno if I’m gonna let you between my thighs.” I was already taking off my habit. “You seem kinda pissed. That’s not the area to have that kind of energy, strictly speaking.”

“I am the pissed. I know it not entirely is his fault, but… I wish, in this moment, to ah…” He mimed wrapping his hands around a phantom neck, teeth clenching.

“I mean, you still could. I have a feeling he’d be into that.” Kneeling on the bed, I watched him sink back heavily onto the mattress; I peeled off my underwear and kicked them behind me.

“Where do you want me?”

Papa shrugged, eyes closed.

“What do you want?” He smirked. 

“You just pried it from the Cardinal’s lips.”

“Tired.” He sighed. Then, he lifted his arms. “Come.” 

I climbed astride his lap but his tug at my hugs became insistent, urging me further up his body. Heart thumping, I moved up until my knees were either side of his head, feeling a flush come over my cheeks. Still, he tugged - his hands curling under my thighs, tilting me forward until I could rest my hands on the headboard. I glanced down at him, stomach fluttering at the sight of his ravenous eyes roaming over what hovered in front of his face - before they locked onto my own. 

“Sit.” He whispered. 

I hesitated. Papa jerked his head up to run his tongue over me, moaning softly while I shuddered. 

“Sit.” He demanded hoarsely. 

I tried to gently rest myself on him but he snatched me down, sucking my clit into his mouth with a growl. One hand still on the headboard, I reached down to fist my fingers into his hair, legs already turning to jelly. Breath rasping through his nostrils, Papa furrowed his brow in concentration as he worked his mouth over me. His cheeks brushed against my inner thighs, leaving streaks of black and white paint there; watching him get so lost in what he was doing made my gut tighten, and I was grinding down into his face desperately within seconds. 

It took me a little while to notice how laborious his breathing had become, each blast out of his nose puffing against my skin. When I moved to lift himself his dug his nails into my flesh to keep me in place, dragging the flat of his tongue over me entirely before swirling it over my clit. 

“Fuck.” I whined; my hand was twisting in his hair, trying to direct him this way and that although the majority of my weight was stopping him from moving too much. Every moan reverberated throughout my body; I found myself lightly bouncing, rocking against him experimentally - he opened his eyes to gaze up at me, humming his approval.

“You’re gonna -” He sucked hard at my clit again, and I shuddered as the build started to climb, groaning between clenched teeth. “Fuck -” 

Papa nodded as best he could and his eyes screwed closed again, his tongue flickering over me relentlessly until my thighs squeezed his head and I came, throwing back my head as it tore through me. 

“Fuck.” I moaned. “Fuck, Papa.” 

He didn’t let me go until he was sure he’d gotten all he could out of me. When I clambered off him, the majority of the paint on his lips, chin and jaw was gone; I glanced down, cheeks burning.

“This… this is body safe, right?” I wheezed, puffing upwards to blow away a stray strand of hair. It was all over me. Papa propped himself up and nodded, still catching his breath; one of his fingertips trailed up my leg until it was running over the paint, a little smirk on his wet lips.

“This shows I been here. I like this.” 

It was my turn to run my hand up his thigh. I could see the bulge in his trousers, but as my fingers approached it he lightly brushed it away, eyes narrowing at the door. I glanced over - but it was empty.

Papa didn’t seem convinced, though.

“What?” 

Getting to his feet, Papa approached the doorway silently, and then poked his head through all at once. A strangled noise of surprise, a quick thump - Papa tutted, arms folding, eyebrows raised in theatrical mockery. 

“F-Forgive me -”

“You do not do as I say.” 

“No - no! I did! I just… um…”

Papa turned on his heel to come back in the room, Copia trailing a few paces behind him, clutching a piece of paper tight to his chest. His entire face was crimson, and I was pretty sure I could see the outline of his cock through the cassock. His head bowed while he composed himself.

“This - ah - this invoice… I believe the ah.. Numbers…” His hands were shaking. “I came to ask… but…” 

I could picture it too easily. Copia stood outside of the bedroom, scandalised, listening to me moaning like the Whore of Babylon as I rode Papa’s face. I imagined him palming at himself needily through the layers of fabric, so guilt ridden but too hot to stop himself. 

“He was listening to you, then. He’s just making sure he’s doing the job right for you, Papa.” I quipped, arranging myself on the sheets to preserve some modem of my modesty. Copia’s eyes were glued to me, and while I flashed him a reassuring smile he all but shuddered. I could hear him breathing from clear across the room.

“Interessante.” Papa mused. Approaching the Cardinal, he plucked the paper from his fingers and let it drop to the floor, too busy studying Copia’s face - who didn’t quite know where to look. 

“You do a good job for me, Cardinale?” 

Copia nodded quickly, eyebrows raising. Papa lightly touched his parted lips, and smirked.

“Very good. I like this. Good little rat.” 

Copia moaned. Only half of one, because he bit down on his lip to stop it the second he realised he’d done it, but it was enough for both of us to hear. Eyes wide, he stared at Papa, hands raising to his chest protectively. Papa laughed, sweeping his thumb over his good cheekbone. 

“Oh? Ah. This… has the sense for me, now. You like to be told this. Well. You please me.”

“Papa.” Copia whispered. It was Papa’s turn to moan; he cupped Copia’s face in his hand and leaned in close, whispering to him something I just about caught.

“Io ce l’ho duro.” He rasped. “Come una roccia.” 

Trembling, Copia’s body pressed closer to Papa’s, his breath coming quickly.

“Perhaps you be a good rat, and you fix this for me.” 

The Cardinal watched Papa amble over to sit on the bed, his hand passing over my leg with a smile - and then he crept over too, standing before him with palpable trepidation. His hand lifted briefly, and then dropped. Weighing up what to do. 

I couldn’t resist crawling closer myself when Copia slowly sank to his knees, his hands resting lightly on each of Papa’s thighs. I propped my chin on Papa’s shoulder so I could watch as Copia slowly undid his fly, cheeks reddening at the sight of his superior’s cock right in front of his face. Once he pulled it out he just grasped it for a moment, lips twitching, eyes flashing up to meet Papa’s. 

Papa leaned back against me and I pressed a kiss onto his neck, distracting his attention away from Copia long enough that he felt he could explore Papa’s cock more thoroughly. I remembered he had felt it before, when they’d fucked in the hotel room, but he probably hadn’t been able to see it. He watched with curiosity as his hand smoothed over the hot, pink skin, breathing evenly through his lips. 

The first lick was tentative, barely there - a curl of his tongue on the underside, but it had Papa wriggling with impatience. Steadily flushing harder, Copia huffed out his breath and, with more resolve, licked from the base to the tip. Papa muttered a word of praise, and Copia sighed, biting his lip.

“Have you… have you ever thought about sucking Papa’s cock?” I whispered. His eyes flickered up and then away and he shrugged, barely noticing how Papa was now bucking up into the strokes of his hand. 

“This is… your first…?” Papa breathed; he shook his head quickly.

“Not my first.” He mumbled. “Just… not often.” 

“Vedo.” Papa sighed, back arching into me slightly. “Perhaps you are unsure. But I know my little rat will make me feel good. Good little rat. You put it in your mouth?”   
Copia tried to shrug nonchalantly, as if that wasn’t at all his intention. As if he’d just got down on his knees to give Papa a medical, and now this was being offered to him. I wondered if he knew I could tell just how turned on he was from the tension of his body, the slight wheeze of his breathing.

The tip of Papa’s cock slipped between Copia’s lips, and then almost out; his head moved lower and, gradually, he sucked inch after inch of his cock into his mouth. At the first touch of his lips Papa had groaned, and with every passing second a new encouragement would rain from his lips. Good, obedient little rat - sucking his Papa’s cock so nice for him. Though his cheeks were scarlet, Copia’s eyes were shining; what had started off as nerves was quickly descending into enthusiasm. Hands on Papa’s hips, Copia’s head bobbed dutifully, eyes fluttering for a second when Papa’s hand threaded into his hair. 

“Bene.” He rasped. He pet lightly at Copia’s head, a smirk creasing his lips. 

“Good little rat, yes?”

With a little whimper, Copia nodded, pulling away to catch his breath before going back to work. The entire time his eyes were fixed on Papa - watching him buck and swear, writhe and sigh against me. I nipped lightly at Papa’s neck until he moaned and then winked at Copia, who looked like he was going to spontaneously combust at the sound. 

He hadn’t been able to fully swallow down all of Papa’s dick, but he was getting close. However, I was noticing that every so often he’d wince - just for a split second - and then he’d be back to gazing up at Papa’s face.

Papa shifted his hips and thrust at just the right time for him to bottom out in Copia’s throat, moaning his title breathlessly. His hand was tightening in Copia’s hair into a fist, his hips jerking as he canted his hips up into his mouth. Copia’s eyes were watering and there was a hard line in his brow that I didn’t like but he kept going, cheeks hollowing with noisy slurps. 

“Che cazzo -” Papa groaned; his back arched off me completely, his hips jerking while he harshly jerked Copia’s head back and forth how he wanted it. Copia gagged once or twice but didn’t falter for a minute - not when Papa gave a final roll of his hips, groaning a final, slurred praise, and not when the very bottom of the bandaging on his face began to grow wet and heavy with fresh blood.

It took all of us a moment to realise what was happening. Papa was still riding out the afterglow, glancing down in confusion with panic pounding in his ribcage hard enough I could feel it in my own chest. I was scrambling to move, to get to Copia - and despite Papa trying to push him away, he continued to work his mouth over him until he was satisfied he was done completely. 

When he finally pulled away, I got on the floor beside him, dithering uselessly as blood began to drip from his chin. He tried to turn away from me but I caught hold of his shoulder and wrenched him back. His hand came to capture the blood and I seized the opportunity to peel back the sodden gauze. The barely-healed slash that finished at the side of his mouth had opened, and was spouting profusely; I hissed, shaking my head, and pressed the gauze back over it. 

“I told you you needed to go to the infirmary.” I snapped; he shrank away, but I was too panic stricken to soften my tone. “I fucking saw you wincing, Copia - you kept going even though it was hurting you.”

“Didn’t want to stop.” He mumbled, and I groaned, eyes darting around to try and locate my clothes. 

Papa’s head dipped and he pressed a lingering kiss to Copia’s forehead, humming softly.

“A good little thing, you are. You please your Papa. But you please him more with going at the nurse.” 

“I did a good job?” Copia rasped. Blood was trickling down his forearm but he sat stock still, spellbound, gazing up at Papa - who nodded, smoothing down his hair.

“The best.”

Picking up my habit from the floor, Papa held it out to me.

“Please, cara - take him there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's a day late ! Really sorry about that, life stuff happens. This is the longest chapter I've written so hopefully that makes up for it.
> 
> As always, please come tell me what you think on tumblr (or leave a comment here)!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister takes the Cardinal to the infirmary. The Cardinal needs some help letting go of pent up stress.
> 
> cw for blood, needles and descriptions of Copia's facial injury. If this bothers you, you can skip the first 'chunk' of text up to the - - -. also, it isn't explicit, but there's a bit of sleep-grinding going on this chapter; just mentioning it in case it skeeves you out. as always, everything is consensual.

Copia, as it turned out, was absolutely petrified of doctors. 

It didn’t matter that our resident nurse was a mature, kind-faced albeit majorly wrinkled matron. I’d been to see her plenty, and no matter how many times I turned up with yet another ‘stomach ache’ she’d let me hang around anyway. As soon as we approached the double doors and the smell of disinfectant started to permeate in the air the Cardinal stopped dead. I didn’t even notice and kept on for a few more steps before the lack of accompanying footsteps dawned on me. 

Eyes round, hands trembling, Copia stared at the door.

“Copia? You alright?”

Though his hand still cupped his lower jaw the blood was dripping between his fingers. I suspected on our way back we’d be able to find a trail of droplets like some grisly version of Hansel and Gretel - returning to him, I tugged lightly on his sleeve until he snapped out of his little trance and glanced down at me, breathing heavily.

“You okay?”

He gave a very unconvincing nod and then closed his eyes, blowing out his breath shakily. 

“I… I can see how you’re feeling.” I chose my words carefully. I wasn’t keen on going to the infirmary for genuine reasons either, but this was pure, cold-blooded, white-knuckled fear. “But you need to have your face looked after.”

“It’ll be fine.” He whispered. Blood spilled between his lips which he licked away quickly, peering over at me to see if I’d noticed. I grimaced.

“The quicker we get in there, the quicker it’s over.” I offered.

After another few minutes of dithering and gentle encouragement we managed to get through the doors. The Matron moved to us, her scuffed shoes squeaking on the polished floor, and she smiled warmly.

Copia’s back was on the wall. She asked him gently what the problem was, and he just gawped at her, chest heaving.

“The Cardinal suffered an injury a few days ago. It keeps bleeding.”

“Ah, I see. Let’s have a look, shall we?” 

It took a lot of persuasion to get Copia to sit down on one of the beds. I don’t think the Matron expected for me to stay, but when I stepped away from him he panicked all over again, lurching up off the bed. 

She looked quite taken aback and I bared a smile.

“The Cardinal is my mentor. We spend a lot of time together.” I explained quickly. That seemed to satisfy her; I plonked myself down on the seat beside the bed, staring over at Copia’s clenched hand where it was lying in his lap. I hope he knew that, mentally, I was holding it. 

There was no one else in the infirmary but the Matron drew the curtain around the bed anyway, encircling us in the smell of mothballs and a faded yellow linen that had definitely seen better days. 

“It’s started bleeding again just now?”

“Yes.” I chirped, watching her bundle some gauze into Copia’s hand and then piloting it to the bottom of his face to catch the blood. He wouldn’t stop staring at her, his frantic breathing audible in the enclosed space. 

“We may need to stitch it. Let’s have a look.” 

Softly, with deliberate slowness so as not to fret him, the Matron peeled back the surgical tape holding the dirty gauze to his face, so clogged with dried blood it came away like a solid, entire piece; the good side of his face was the side I could see, but the Matron gently tilted his head to get a better look, lips pursing. 

It was bad. 

Four long, jagged slits half-healing unevenly ran along the entire side of his face, the longest being the one that finished near the side of his mouth, which was livid and weeping. The Matron sucked her teeth and swept out of the curtain.

I couldn’t even speak. Around each wound the skin was raised and angry, his eye a little bruised from the force of the blow. Copia’s eyes travelled over me and he remained silent; as terrible as it was, I was unable to tear my eyes away. 

“Fuck, Copia.” I muttered. Seeing his lovely freckled skin so badly abused made nausea swirl in my stomach. It wasn’t healing properly, and the skin was flaking and peeling in some areas where he’d presumably not been caring for it. 

The Matron returned wearing some gloves, carting a little trolley with her. On top of it sat two silver bowls, one filled with water - and a whole pile of fresh gauze. The clump he was holding was already sodden so she swapped it over. Copia let her do what she wanted, stock still except for his wary eyes. When her thumb pulled lightly on the flesh near the bottom of the now open slash, she grimaced. 

“Your Unholy Eminence. You should have come to see me straight away; this is healing incorrectly.”

Chewing my lip, I began picking at some hard skin on the side of my nail, watching her bathe some gauze in the water and dab it over the wound nearest to his eye; her brow hardened when he winced and shifted at her attempt to remove some paint he’d put directly over it. I watched her mouth open to scold him further but Copia was barely there, eyes low while he trembled but stayed where she wanted him to. 

Piece after piece, she cleaned up his face until she was satisfied. It was quite alarming to see him with one one circle of thick black paint. I was worried he wouldn’t like for her to see him without it but he’d gone past fear to catatonia, just waiting for it to be over. 

I glanced at his hand again, but could think of no feasible reason I could use to explain to her why I was holding it. 

“The issue is, Your Eminence, the skin is joining back together incorrectly.” She explained. “With a fresh wound, we aim to match the two sides together to create as little chance of a scar as possible. These, I’m afraid, are either going to scar terribly, or continue to open until we do something about them.”

His eyes flickered up. Her thumb touched the same spot as before, stretching open the lower wound.

“This one is deep. If you don’t mind the potential scarring we could leave the rest but… this one will need stitching, I’m afraid. The positioning of it, you see. It’ll keep opening.” 

Copia exhaled quickly, and I could see the alarm bells ringing in his head. The Matron turned to open a drawer on the trolley, and Copia broke into a low, horrified moan when she turned back to him with a needle in a packet. 

Just as he lurched off the bed I grabbed his thigh and pushed, toppling him back onto the bed. The Matron froze, blinking, and Copia would not stop staring at the needle, mouth hanging open. 

“Do it without.” He rasped, unblinking. “No. Please.”

“Cardinal, it will be a hundred times worse without anaesthesia. I swear; it will only hurt for a second.” She soothed.

He turned his head away from both of us for a second, shoulders heaving, a shudder convulsing through him. At the rustle of her opening the packet his head whipped back over and he watched, the colour draining from his pallor, as she set the syringe up and retrieved a small vial of local anaesthetic from another drawer. 

She tactfully turned so he wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing but Copia continued to watch. As well as dripping blood down his forearm he was now sweating bullets, each breath shaking in his throat. 

“Forgive me if this is inappropriate, my Cardinal.” At the sound of my voice he tore his eyes away to look at me. “But if you need, you can hold my hand.” 

I extended mine. The Matron turned, flashing him a sympathetic smile. His eyes fell on the needle and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Copia reached over and grasped my hand tightly. His palm was slick and he was trembling hard enough to vibrate my own arm. 

“Close your eyes, Cardinal.” The Matron’s words were soft enough for him to obey. 

By the time the ordeal was over, I’d wished she’d given me the same advice. 

\- - - 

 

Any looks the Cardinal and I received on our trip back to his quarters were met with my own steely stare. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire time we were at the infirmary, and by the time we finally reached the door to his rooms my fingers were white from the lack of circulation. Copia fumbled in his pockets for the key, still dazed - the key slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor and, in the most uncharacteristic display, he hissed and slammed his fist onto the wall in utter frustration. It made me jump but I was quick to scoop up the key and let us in, stealing a glance at the dent he had made in the plaster. 

Once I locked us inside I set the key on a nearby surface to stop it from getting lost. Copia still had hold of my other hand so I only had a few seconds to do so before I was dragged to the middle of the room, where he stopped and just looked around, impassively. 

“Copia? Are you -”

“I’m going back to work.” He muttered tersely. He lugged me after him towards a chest of drawers, snatching one open and grabbing a pair of gloves. It was only then he let go of me; while he slid them on, I flexed my aching fingers, grimacing at the tingle as the blood rushed back into them. 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” 

He turned. He looked at me. The entire afflicted side of his face was now covered in stick on squares of bandaging, with gauze over his left eye completely. The visible face was expressionless - save for the tight, grim line of his lips.

“Copia, you’re tired. That was… a lot.” Understatement. “Papa will be doing the work, now; take a few hours to rest.” 

The drawer slammed shut without his stare leaving me; I jumped, and his jaw flexed momentarily. 

“I appreciate your… concern.” He muttered. “I’m going back to work.” 

I’d never seen Copia pissed before. Quite frankly, it was scary; but having him return to Papa in this sort of mood would be a recipe for disaster. Papa would only have to say one stupid joke and something would happen. He wouldn’t have to worry about Nihil offing him - Copia would kill him himself. 

Think, quickly. I had to keep him here. And try to calm him down; although I wasn’t quite sure what had gotten him so wound up. During the Matron’s ministrations I’d seen a brief look of dejected acceptance cross his features until he descended back into that trance-like state. It was only when we left he suddenly jolted back into motion, and hurricaned his way across the abbey with me in tow. 

He wouldn’t look after himself, that much was certain. But I had a sneaking suspicion of someone he would.

“Well, I’m tired too. Can you come nap with me? You said you would earlier.” 

He didn’t say anything. I ambled over to his bed and smoothed at the sheets, glancing up at him with theatrical worry. 

“I tried to make your bed once I was done. I hope it’s okay for you.” 

Copia drew in his breath and then sighed just as deeply, coming over to peel the sheets back.

“It’s perfect, Sister. I’ll lay with you for a while.” 

Better than nothing. He watched me strip off my habit and stockings and lay them out on one of the chairs, then waited until I slid under the sheets before curling up beside me. It always felt so right to have his body next to mine; I just wished he would take off the cassock. With his good cheek in the pillow I could barely see his face, but he turned me anyway and pressed up against my back - his hands folded around me, and I noticed he was still wearing the gloves. 

Though he was set on returning to work he fell asleep quickly. Probably down to the adrenaline of his encounter with Papa - and at the infirmary. My face twisted at the memory. It had been rather horrific to watch, so who knows how bad it was to endure. But his breath was steady on my neck and his body was finally relaxed, and it wasn’t too long until I drifted away too.

-

I awoke, sweating. In his sleep Copia had pressed himself against me as closely as possible, his hands wrapped around my torso to grab onto my chest, his parted lips on the nape of my neck. I thought he was awake at first, due to his body shifting behind me; but his breath was slow and deep. When I wriggled around to try and get myself some space to breathe, I felt his lips move and his hips twitch; the hard shaft of his cock was pressing into the small of my back. I froze. Copia continued to grind it against me, his mouth motioning at my skin. 

A flush of heat enveloped me, and I swallowed, hands hovering over his own where they were gripping onto my bra. 

Having him rut against me in the depths of sleep - hopefully due to some filthy dream that involved me - set my body on fire in an instant. But as much as I wanted to rock myself back onto him, to reach down and run my hand over his large thigh where it was under my own, he wasn’t conscious. When I tried to gently ease his hands off my chest he let out a small noise and grabbed harder, gloves scrabbling over skin. 

Poor needy boy. He continued to knead at me, grind at me - and something struck me quite starkly as a result. Copia wasn’t exactly gentle once he got started but he always needed coaxing and encouragement to even touch me in the first place. Here, he was playing with my body - admittedly unknowingly - and I could not believe how good it felt. I lay still and let him carry on, wondering with dim, wicked glee if he would cum like this; but the ache grew too large too quickly and I lightly stroked his arm, giving it a small squeeze as I whispered his name.

He stirred. His face pushed into my neck; he crushed me against him so tight my ribs creaked, and awed at the size and power of his body compared to my own I couldn’t help but whimper. He surfaced at that, blinking slowly when I twisted my head round to look at him.

“Hey.” I whispered. 

Another blink, then a long look down at our positioning. He was already quite flushed from our shared body heat but once he realised the state of his body he turned positively crimson. But he didn’t move away.

“I’m sorry I woke you. You seemed to be having a nice dream.” 

Copia huffed out his breath and began to peel himself away from me. Catching hold of his shoulder, I pulled him back down until his lips bumped mine. He kissed me quickly before moving away again. 

“You should go.” He mumbled.

I sat up, frowning.

“Really? Don’t you wanna… I dunno, do something?”

His tongue wet his lips but he shook his head slowly, not looking at me. My frown deepened. 

“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” 

A shrug. I wanted to giggle, but I knew that would mean no chance of a fuck. 

“Why?” When I placed my hand on his thigh he stared at it but made no effort to move it, not even when it began to creep further up. The swell of his cock bulged out under the cassock; I traced my fingers over it and he shivered, a wretched little moan falling from his lips. 

“What’s wrong? You’re hard as a rock, Copia. You’re seriously telling me you don’t want your dick sucked right now?” 

Hand shaking, he reached over to my own and hesitantly pushed it off him, eyes fixed on the bed. I got up on my knees, itching to loop my arms around his neck but sensing the last thing he wanted was to look at me. 

“Please?” I prompted. His one good eye closing, he breathed deep. 

“A lot has happened.” He mumbled. “That has made me feel…”

His lips twitched as he searched for the word, which he delivered with a small shrug.

“...Pathetic.”

“What?” 

He looked away, fists clenching.

“Papa’s office. Hearing what Papa did to you. The infirmary. And now… this.” His lip drew back and he grunted. “Grinding on you like a dog.” 

“If you want me, you can have me. Right now.” 

“Stop it.” 

“You don’t want me? Alright.” 

“Stop.” He snapped, the sharp noise reverberating around the walls. I sank back, chewing my lip.

“Know this, Sister - there will not be a day when I won’t want you. But… I can’t.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” I mumbled, and it was enough to earn me a withering glare. I crawled over and got off the bed, standing just before him. He immediately looked away again; all I could see was the bandaged half of his face, and the tensed muscles in his jaw and shoulders. 

“Copia, do you - are you stopping yourself?” 

No reply. A jolt of pain knifed through my heart and I just looked at him for a long moment. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Each and every time we’d slept together, it had been me chasing him down. Me initiating. Me guiding us through it. There had been days I’d turned up to his office and asked him to fuck me and he’d dropped everything to obey. 

Not once had he ever actually asked me for anything. He’d stopped himself on our very first encounter, where I’d rode his thigh in his office. And he was genuinely surprised when he discovered I wanted to continue our weird little relationship. 

He’d said that he didn’t think he could explain it, and now I finally understood.

“Do you think you don’t deserve this?” I uttered. His head whipped around and he stared at me, mouth open - until he promptly snapped it shut and shrugged again. 

“Copia.” How was I even going to begin to unpick this thinking for him? It only served to prove that his self esteem was barely existent. I wondered how many times he’d burned for me - or just wanted a hug, or some company - and denied himself. His eyes were down, and when I followed them I saw he was looking at the face paint that still smeared my inner thighs; I suddenly felt horrifically, disgustingly guilty for letting myself get swept up in Papa’s game. 

“I’m yours, you know?” I breathed. The one green eye flitted up to match my gaze, and I smiled gently at him. “Copia, I’ve been yours for a long time. You can do what you want with me.” 

He started to shake his head and I leaned down to brush my hands over his chest; his entire body was rigid, stress emanating from him that only worsened at my touch.

“You’re so wound up.” I mumbled. “How long have you been wound up for? Poor thing.”

He huffed in annoyance and I quickly changed tact. Straightening up, I reached behind myself to undo my bra and shrugged it off. 

“Cardinal."

He looked up from my chest to my face. An almost imperceptible shake of his head. A warning. Smiling, I spun so my back was to him toying with the waistband of my underwear. 

“I’m yours. This body is yours. You can use it whenever you like, and how you like.”

“Mine.” He rasped, tasting the word with clear uncertainty. I snapped the waistband and looked back at him, grinning. 

“Yours. For whatever you need. If you need a hug, I’ll give you one. If you need a hand to hold, I’ll be there.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and watched him stare at my body, his chest beginning to heave. So close. 

“If you need a little toy to fuck your stress into, here I am.” A swish of my hips. “I’m yours, Copia. I’m all -”

He snatched me down onto his lap before I could finish. As soon as he had me pressed against him his hands were all over me, one coming to rest under my chin to tilt it up so he could suck my neck hungrily. Groaning, I wriggled until I was comfortably seated on his thick thighs, feeling his cock pressing against my ass; I felt teeth, and his hand was drifting down my stomach. 

So much happened in so little time it took me a few stunned seconds to realise he hadn’t taken off the gloves. It wasn’t stopping him, though - he opened his thighs to spread my own and then he palmed impatiently at me through my underwear. 

“Mine.” He whispered hoarsely. He held me steady despite my wriggling, grunting his annoyance again when I tried to right myself somewhat. 

“Any…” Copia paused to drag his tongue over my neck, moaning softly to himself. “Anything I want?” 

“Anything.” 

Teeth sank into my shoulder at the same time the heel of his palm pressed against my clit, causing me to buck at the utter contrast of pain and pleasure. His tongue passed over the sore skin a few times and then, moving to another spot, he sucked. Hard. 

Marking me. 

Instinct was making me flinch even though each bite only served to make the heat that consumed me worse, and Copia’s hand moved from my chin to the base of my throat, squeezing just enough for my breath to stutter. He pulled away long enough to inspect his work and broke out in a fresh little moan, peppering sweet kisses over the bruised skin. 

His hand slipped under the waistband. Leather on wet skin - simultaneously so strange, yet so good. His middle finger dragged over me a few times to spread the wetness around; it felt alien and impossibly soft, and with another movement his thighs pulled my own apart further so he could rub the pad directly over my clit. 

My small gasps and whimpers weren’t enough for him. He increased the speed until I was gasping, brain spinning at being brought so close so quickly; he scratched his teeth over the sore flesh of my shoulder until I bleated his name, over and over; toes twisting, arms like jelly, I was at his mercy, his strong body anchoring me to his lap.   
I was turned on before from the sleep-grinding, but having him take what he needed from me like this was another level. I was creeping on the precipice; wobbling right on the very edge - and the bastard moved his hand away. 

Before I could complain he stood up, arms wrapped around my middle to lift me in a rather terrifying display of strength. Copia tossed me onto the bed and grabbed at my underwear, managing to catch some skin in the process; he tugged until the seams gave and deposited the fabric onto the floor, already forgotten. 

I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do. He was past words, now, panting, no doubt painfully hard. Taking my hand, he pushed it down so it was on my crotch and then moved away again, staring down. Blushing, I obediently began to stroke myself. His hands were so much larger than my own; I already missed the feeling of his finger on me, but I got it to build again quickly, deliberately writhing and thrashing more than usual on his sheets as he fumbled to take his gloves off. 

I didn’t know if he wanted me to cum without him. Teasing at myself, I watched him struggle out of the cassock and his shirt, staring down at me as he undid his belt and dropped his pants. 

“Copia.” I whined, and he climbed onto the bed quickly, almost crushing me under his bulk as he got himself situated over me. He tugged at my body to lie where he wanted it; underneath him, my thighs being lifted to go over his own, so his cock was laying on me, hot and heavy. Leaning down, he turned his attention to my chest; massaging and squeezing at them until his mouth descended and he latched on to the top of one of my breasts, cheeks hollowing. After a moment he pulled back again and his thumb traced over it, his chest heaving, before he quickly did the same again. 

Love bites bloomed all over my skin. He couldn’t stop himself. Each time he did one he’d pull back to look at it, enraptured. My stomach was getting wet from how much pre he was leaking; he didn’t even notice, absolutely fascinated with turning my skin from pale to purple. I was going be covered in them, and though I knew future me was going to fucking hate myself, I cocked my chin to expose my throat and begged him to give me more there, desperate to feel his feverish, ravenous lips devour as much of me as he wanted to. His thumbs rolled over my nipples relentlessly as his mouth travelled over my throat, the sides of my neck, my collarbones - when he finally pulled away, his hands raked down my front to come to rest at my hips. I’d underestimated just how sharp his short nails were; red welts raised, and Copia considered them with a tilt of his head, his nails biting into the sides of my hips harder and harder. 

He was marking me up. Claiming me as his. I wouldn’t heal for weeks. 

Copia reached to grab the headboard, his other hand scathing across my stomach, hard enough for me to wince; his fingers brushed over the raised marks, jaw slack.

“Fuck.” He slurred. 

I needed him to fuck me. The base of his cock brushed over my clit with each movement; so close, yet nowhere near enough. I wanted nothing more than to grab it and stuff it inside me to try and quell the pain that seared in my bones. Nothing mattered anymore; I just needed him to ram himself into me until I couldn’t walk. 

“Can I touch your cock?” I whispered. Copia’s nails stopped in their tracks halfway down my sternum and he just looked at me for a moment.

“What?” 

“I want to touch your cock.” I pleaded, writhing uncomfortably under his gaze - intense as ever, even with one eye. “Please, Cardinal, let me touch it.”

Copia blinked, and I drew my hands up onto my stomach awkwardly. Had he never been asked that? Had no one ever begged him before? 

“Okay.” He said each syllable carefully, eye narrowing like I was going to play a trick on him. I immediately moved my hand down to grab him, doing the best I would to circle my fingers around the fat length and stroking it at a steady, even pace. Hips rocking, Copia’s grip on the headboard must have tightened; the muscles in his forearm tensed harder. 

“More.” He muttered - and his face brightened when I did as I was told, squeezing just a little tighter, moving slightly faster. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, breathless; his brow knitted, and I had a horrible feeling this was all about to be over very quickly.

“Please fuck me.” I choked. “Please. Put it in me. I can’t wait any longer.”

But he made me wait, revelling in this newfound power. He said nothing, and didn’t move, letting me continue to stroke him and beg pathetically while he watched, breathing hard. I was going to fucking scream. I was actually tearing up from how frustrated I was, barely able to string a plea together, bucking my hips just to try and feel something. Copia’s teeth sank into his lower lip, and finally, /finally/, he brushed my hand away to take his dick himself. 

His free hand pushed the back of my thigh up until I held them there, my hands behind my knees. He teased the tip against me, breathing evenly, making sure it lasted long enough that I started whimpering all over again. And then, with no warning, he slammed it into me.

“Jesus /Christ/.” I hissed. My stomach turned over at the sudden intrusion, but it was so fucking good. The bed thwacked hard against the wall; and a small frame hanging nearby popped straight off the nail and tumbled down. I laughed, somewhat hysterical, and Copia put his body over mine so he could fuck me unimpeded. 

He would not leave my poor shoulder alone, alternating between nipping at it and kissing it. His breath came quickly and his moans pooled into my skin, each jerk of his hips hitting deep inside of me. I thought he’d took me rough in the past, but this was something else entirely. This was him chasing his own pleasure, burying his entire cock inside of me before pulling it out almost all the way and thrusting it back inside viciously. I came like that, stretched open by him, taken by him so completely I could barely breathe. My nails clawed at his back, and it only spurred him on. 

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been going for, but at some point he pulled out and flipped me over like it was nothing. As soon as I landed on my stomach he grabbed my hips and pulled me to my knees, his other hand smoothing down my back over my spine in a way that made me shudder hard. 

“Wait.” I panted. He was already pushing the head against me again but he paused; when I’d managed to catch enough breath to speak, I looked over my shoulder at him and grinned.

“You’ve got me all marked up, Copia. Why don’t you add one more?” 

I wiggled my hips to punctuate my point, seeing as my ass was right next to him - but he just stared at me. Puffing upwards to blow away a strand of sweaty hair, I tried again. 

“If you slap my ass hard enough, you’ll leave a handprint.” 

His jaw dropped at that. He was hesitant, though; he rested his palm on my ass uneasily, and I gently instructed him to rub at it until the skin was warmed up. 

“Now.” God, I was gonna fucking regret this. “Make it a good one. I want it burned on there for a week.” 

“Really?” He mumbled, and I nodded, legs kicking in excited anticipation. Once again, future me was going to think I was a complete and utter idiot. But current me thought it was a great idea. I turned away so it would be a complete surprise. Copia’s hand gave the skin one last lingering caress before it was gone. I tried my best not to tense up, biting down on my lower lip. 

I wondered if he was actually going to do it. Maybe not. Or, if he did, he’d probably only do it gentle. Maybe a bit of a stern slap, but nothing too hard -

He nearly took me off the bed. I rocked forward from the force of it, too shocked to even make a noise. It stung for a good ten seconds after he’d done it. Neither of us moved. 

Gingerly, I peeked over my shoulder. Copia was frozen, staring at me with his eye wide. He hadn’t expected to hit me that hard, then. No hard feelings though. The guy was full of pent up frustration; sure enough, the image of his entire hand was embedded onto my ass cheek. I blew out my breath and looked up at him, flashing him a smile that made him sag in relief. 

“Look.” I swayed my hips from side to side, his eyes glued to the handprint. “You mark me up so good, Copia.” 

“Fuck.” It was all he could manage, and it was good enough for me. He dared touch the burning skin, marvelling at it until I jerked my hips back impatiently, arching my back and hoping he’d get the message. 

Pushing himself back inside of me, I had to grip the sheets to keep myself anchored as he fucked me again; grunting, Copia wouldn’t stop stroking over his work, his fingers digging into the already sore flesh of my ass as leverage to guide me back onto his cock with every harsh thrust. The exertion was making my thighs shake, and it was increasingly harder to find the strength to move myself back in time with the canting of his hips like he wanted me to. Nails scored up my back and through my hair, raking at my scalp until it tingled. Copia grabbed a fistful and used that to move me, pulling sharply every time I collapsed forward, gasping. I could feel the knot tightening again. He was driving against the spot inside of me, each tug of my hair only bringing me closer. He was being fucking ruthless with me, and I loved it. So out of character for my shy little rat man. Though all my muscles were screaming I rocked back against him hard, chasing it - but Copia growled, low in his chest, and his grasp in my hair grew painfully tight. He came inside of me, pushing himself as far inside as he could, slurring out some swears in two different languages. He let go of me and I collapsed forward with a content sigh, face buried in his pillow and my ass still in the air. Shaky hands brushed over my hips; I could hear him catching his breath. 

“Hmm.” I hummed, twisting my face enough so that he could hear me speak. “Do you feel better n-”

He was trying to turn me onto my back, urging me until he just flipped me until I landed, the mattress strings creaking loudly. 

“You didn’t cum.” He mumbled, and I shrugged, smiling. I loved seeing him. I loved seeing his big, bulky body with its smattering of hair and freckles between my legs. I loved his worried face hovering over me, his green eye shining. I loved his swollen lips and his dumb mustache and his huge hands as they pawed at my body in contemplation. 

“It’s fine. This was all about you - Copia -”

He shifted so he was laying on his stomach (quite cramped, due to the size of the bed) and parted my legs, settling my knees over his shoulders. I sat up quickly.

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to.” He replied, simply, quietly. I fell back down. He was considering the remnants of Papa’s paint, the very small amount that hadn’t rubbed off. There was patch of it at the very top of my inner thigh, and he kissed it gently. 

Then, he bit it. Hard. 

I jolted up, whimpering at the sharp sting but he held my thigh against his face, sucking hard. Unable to speak, I just moaned at him, tugging at his hair feebly until he finally pulled away with a pop. He’d actually bitten me hard enough to break the skin this time. The imprint of his mouth was seared onto my thigh, right next to the most intimate part of myself; with a final, happy little kiss on it, like a painter signing a picture, Copia smiled to himself. 

I was very aware of the fact that his cum was beginning to drip out of me but he didn’t seem to care; he lapped at me a few times before sucking at my clit, cheeks moving as his tongue fluttered over it in just the right way. I fell back on the bed and whined, back arching, fisting at his hair desperately as he expertly brought me close all over again. He was so good with his mouth, and the way he moaned into me and grabbed at my skin only made it all the more better. Brow furrowed, eyes closed, Copia upped the speed with a satisfied little sigh, his entire body rocking slightly. I came, hard, on his tongue; he stopped the suction but continued to flicker it over me while I rode it out, keeping it going for as long as possible without it being too much for me. My thighs squeezed around his head as it tore through me, each wave sending pulse after perfect pulse of pleasure through my whole system. When I finally finished and looked down at him, he was gazing up at me, waiting patiently.

“Good boy.” I rasped. “You’re so good at that.” 

He sat up rapidly and was on me again, hands combing into my hair to keep my head still while his lips devoured my own. His tongue filled my mouth, along with the taste of myself, and of his own salt; moaning, my hands scratched through the coarse hair of his chest to loop around his neck. When he broke away he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of my nose - a stark contrast to everything he’d done before. 

He was rocking into the bed, and gasping quietly under his breath. 

“Are… are you tired?” He managed to mumble, and I shrugged, staring up at him. I couldn’t wait for the bandages to come off so I could see his handsome face again properly. 

“Why?” I whispered, and he sat up. Half hard already. His finger traced over some of the scratches on my stomach listlessly, and I huffed in a deep breath. 

“You wanna go again?” 

A shrug. I rolled my eyes.

“Copia, I told you. If you want something from me, ask for it. No I don’t know’s or maybes. So, do you want to go again?” 

His eye swept up my body until it was on my face. Lips pressed together, he nodded curtly. I smirked and stretched, legging my legs fall apart; he quickly positioned himself between them, massaging gently at my thighs while he looked at me. 

“I think I have another round in me.” I smiled, letting my arms fall on the bed above my head. Copia stopped what he was doing and looked up at me, blinking.

“Just one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *triumphant return noises*
> 
> Hello again! Thank you for waiting so patiently. I had some shit go down in my life that wasn't the best. Please take this 6,500 word chapter as a peace offering. See you next Friday!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister and Papa talk.

Papa didn’t notice me, not even when I came right up to the desk and stood there looking at him. Occupied with a small stack of papers, he scribbled his illegible scrawl over some of the lines before reaching for the his stamp, pressing it below the writing and replacing it in the ink pad without glancing up. He was working like a machine, and it was pretty odd to see.

I leaned down, elbows on the desk, and propped up my face with my hands - he jumped, but a content grin swept over his lips and he closed the space between us to kiss me, then went straight back to writing.

“Is everything okay?” 

Papa nodded, brow wrinkling momentarily at the next piece of paper. He only had a few left; there was quite a sizeable pile of finished paperwork beside him. I scanned over it. Nothing exciting. Papa slid the paper he’d just been working on on top of the pile and started on the next.

“Shall I leave?”

“No, no. I finish very soon.” He glanced up. “Important?”

“Nah, nothing important. I just wanted to come see you. See how things are.”

Though he bowed his head his warm, boyish smile did not escape me. He had good news. Another page joined the pile, and I reached over to comb my hand through his soft hair.

“Do you think things will calm down now?” I muttered. The lock shone like spilt oil when it caught the light in the right way. He nodded once, and the constricting band that had been wrapped around my guts for the past few days loosened just a little. 

I watched him like that until he finished. Once he did, he stored the papers away in one of the filing cabinets behind him and then I had his full attention. He came round to embrace me, and when I relaxed against his chest his heart beat steadily against my cheek. His chin landed on the top of my head, and he gave me a small squeeze. 

“I see my father.” Papa muttered, skimming his hand over my back - but he paused, and pulled away slightly. “You… you’re veiling?” 

“Later.” I looked up at him. “What happened?” 

Thumbs on my cheeks, Papa’s lips pursed for a second as he studied my face before he smiled gently again, eyes glimmering.

“I tell him - well. I don’t tell him, ‘ciao, padre - I think you plan to kill me like mio fratello so I do the shaping up’. But this is what I mean when I speak to him. I tell him all my paperwork is finished. I tell him all affairs are in order. I tell him I have arranged for more conferences, more - ah - exposure for us.”

“Copia helped you with all that?” 

He nodded. I smiled at the thought. Such a kind gesture on his part. There wasn’t a wicked bone in the Cardinal’s body; Papa was lucky. 

“What happened next?” 

“He goes.. White. More than before.” His thumbs stroked over my cheekbones slowly. “Says ‘si, bene’. Then he says he must go see the Sister.”

“Hmm?” I hummed, trying to prompt him to continue; he took the break in his speech to kiss me again, his lips pressing on mine sweetly but searingly hot, a promise for more. I had to hold onto the fabric of his shirt until the little wave of lightheadedness dissipated. 

“I think he goes to tell her to stop the plans, if they had this. I stay on top of my work, and I am thinking there will be no issue in the future.” 

Sweet relief. I pulled him to me and held onto him for dear life. He was here to stay - my Italian idiot. 

“So that’s it, then.” I muttered; I felt him nod, and I closed my eyes. Once more, his hand slid over the fabric of my veil where it fell over my back.

“Veil?” 

I wasn’t sure how he was going to react. After Copia had finally let off all the steam he needed to (and subsequently passed out beside me) I awoke to find him staring, not unlike the first time. I wondered if it was due to me clambering on top of him in the night - he was a lot bigger than me, and the bed was pretty small, so space was an issue - but he began to apologise profusely the second I opened my eyes. He’d reacted with abject horror, and upon inspection of my body, I gave myself the most withering glare I could in the bathroom mirror. I wasn’t all too bothered about having to veil again, but the bite on my thigh was another story. It hurt. After failing to persuade Copia to shower with me, I had to suffer through the feeling of the water running over the punctures, stinging hot like a friction burn. Copia had insisted I used some of his gauze even though it wasn’t bleeding, and though I initially declined I realised it could start bleeding or get caught on my tights - and that was an infirmary visit I really wouldn’t like to have to go through. 

“I saw Copia a few days ago.” I mumbled. A shiver ran through him, and he pulled away, biting his lip. 

“He gives you the…?” He gestured at his collarbone, where his own mark from the Cardinal was surely healing under the white shirt. 

“Understatement.” 

“Show me?” 

He was already tugging at the cowl, trying to get an eyeful. I pulled away quickly. 

“I can’t! Not here. Someone might come in.”

“Just a flash.” 

“There’s too many for it to be a ‘flash’.” 

Papa drew in his breath sharply. Seizing my hand, he began piloting me towards the door to his quarters while I stumbled along behind him. 

“You show me this.” He’d barely closed the door behind him but his free hand was already fisting at the front of my habit. 

“Come sit on the bed, at least. Your back must hurt from sitting at the desk all day.” 

He grunted but obliged, pushing open the double doors to his bedroom and perching on the foot of the huge bed. Today, the sheets were purple, the silk fine enough that it reflected the light from the two sconces on the bedside tables. 

Papa’s eyes burned into me as I removed the veil, a lock of my hair falling free from the cowl as I did so. I handed it to him and he twisted it between tight fists while I considered what to do first. Hand reaching behind myself, I unzipped the habit enough so that I could pull the cowl free from the collar, then off my head entirely. 

“Fuck.” He gasped, jaw slack. I tilted my head and smiled at him, gently running my fingers over my throat. 

“He was so wound up, you know? So many repressed feelings. I told him he could do what he wanted to me.” 

Papa managed to tear his eyes away from the purple that marbled my neck to meet my own gaze. His tongue swept over his lips.

“What does he do?” He mumbled. “He was… rough?” 

“He did throw me around like a sack of potatoes.” I admitted, hitching up my skirts to grab at my tights. I made sure the hem fell back over my thighs as I pulled them down, keeping my upper thighs covered for now as I stripped. He was taking the love bites well, but I didn’t know what he’d think of the actual damage on my thigh. I stepped out of my shoes and kicked off the tights; Papa skimmed his hand over my knee, humming. 

“I wish he do this to me.” Papa whispered, neck turning pink. “Be rough.” 

“I’m sure he’d do it for you, if you asked. You know how desperate he is to please.” 

When I pulled the habit off his eyes roved over my chest and stomach at first, widening at the sight of yet more bruises and faint red marks all over my torso. Then, his eyes fell down to the square of gauze taped to my leg, and he frowned, pointing at it with silent enquiry. 

“He… uh…”

“He does this?” His tone was icy enough that my blood ran cold; I smoothed my fingers over it.

“It’s another bite. Just a harder one.” 

Papa’s teeth caught his lower lip, and his hand drifted towards his crotch. 

“I can see?” 

“If you want. It’s not as bad as you think.”

I set my foot on the bed beside him and began to pick at the tape, nose wrinkling as it pulled at the hair. One hand on my knee, Papa reached into his pants; under the fabric his hand jerked, his breathing coming quickly. The surgical tape held fast and it took a good few minutes and some awkward fumbling on my part to get it loose enough for me to rip off. Once it was uncovered, the movement in his pants stopped, and he just stared at it. 

I scrutinised it myself. The puncture points didn’t hurt much now they had scabbed. It was the bruising that ached; any pressure in the vicinity would send a sharp jolt of pain knifing through me. 

“Che cazzo.” Papa slurred. His hand hovered over it, visibly trembling, and he started to jerk himself quickly. I brushed my fingers around it in a barely-there caress; it was enough to prompt him to lightly touch it, right in the centre.

“His whole mouth. On here.” 

“Stuck with me for a good while. I think that’s why he likes it.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it, and he missed my smirk. “Do you want to know something, Papa?”

He nodded quickly, wheezing between parted lips. 

“He gave it to me right here because some of your paint was on my thigh.” 

Papa groaned, and I stroked my hand over his hair with a tut.

“You boys. Both leaving marks on me. Is there some kind of rivalry going on here? Penis envy?”

“No.” He muttered quickly. “I have a nice cazzo. Lots of people say this.”

Then, his eyes flickered up. 

“Which do you like best?” 

“I can’t answer that.” I laughed, automatically feeling a flush coming on. I went to move my leg from the bed but he held me there, thumb resting just over the bite. 

“No, dimmi. Tell me. Who is better?” 

“It’s not a question of who’s better than who. You’re both… different. It’s hard to compare.”

He scoffed at that, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Alright. Which do you prefer - red wine, or a pizza?” 

His mouth opened, and then snapped shut just as quick. He frowned, and I grinned at him. 

“Okay. You make the point. You are just… ah… greedy.” 

I knew he was joking. There was a twinkle in his eye and his entire demeanor tensed in childish anticipation for my response. I could have rolled my eyes but it would be much more fun to play him at his own game. My fierce scowl had his eyebrows lifting. 

“Greedy? Not at all. Opportunistic, maybe.”

“But you take us both.” He argued; I glanced down to see if he was still jacking himself off. Thankfully not. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if arguing was on his never ending list of kinks. 

“I’ve only ever fucked the two of you at the same time like - what, twice?”

“But you fuck me and then him too.” He insisted. “Always getting fucked. You need this, yes?” 

“I don’t /need/ it. I can get myself off just fine.” 

“And you fuck yourself when you don’t fuck me or him! Very greedy.”

“Alright then. If I’m so greedy, I won’t fuck you anymore.” 

He made a whiny, surprised noise with his throat when I pulled away and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed. I knew he was staring, so I made sure not to give in to looking at him; instead, I busied myself in digging through the bottom drawer of a bedside table, tossing aside all manner of items of questionable sleaziness before finding a vibrator. I turned the bottom and it hummed to life - with that, I flashed him a smile as I lay back on his bed. 

Papa had twisted around completely to watch, blinking quickly.

“Cara mia? What is it you -”

“Shhh. Maybe you should leave the room, Papa. I don’t want to to be subjected to how greedy I am.” 

I left the vibrator on my tummy as I shimmied out of my underwear, noting from my periphery that Papa hadn’t moved an inch. My legs falling open, I grabbed the toy and raised it to my lips. Low, rumbly vibrations shuddered through my skin; I graze my tongue over it to wet it, sighing happily.

“Cara.” Papa whined. He crawled so he was seated directly in front of me but about a foot away, eyes flashing from between my legs to my face quickly. 

“What?” I muttered. The vibrator started its slow descent down my body - between my collarbones, sweeping over my chest with a slight pause on each hardening nipple, onto my stomach. Brow furrowed, Papa just whined again, rubbing at himself dumbly. 

“Let me.” He whispered, and I shook my head.

I expected an Oscar for my performance. As soon as I touched it to my clit I threw back my head and moaned, back arching up off the bed, breathless whispers leaking from my lips. Reaching down, I twisted at the base a few times until the setting was just right - very quickly, the pleasure had me fisting at his pillows, my hips snapping and thighs shaking as I bucked against it. I couldn’t ever use toys in my own room without the entire wing knowing, so I’d forgotten how good it felt; quite a few of the moans I let out were genuine, my concentration fading so that the frustrated man sitting before me was largely forgotten until his hand touched my ankle. 

“Please.” He whimpered. Looking down, I couldn’t help but giggle at his wretched expression. 

“You’re so cute. The leader of the entire church and yet you sit and wait for me, too scared to even touch me properly.” I sat up, thighs clamping around the toy to keep it in place. “You know for a fact you could do what you wanted to me, Papa.” 

“I never just take from you, cara.” His hands shook as they hovered over my calves, desperate to pull them apart. He broke into a little moan, cut short when he bit his lip. “It… It feels good?” 

“Yeah. Wait - sit up properly for me.”

Once he was situated I clambered onto his lap, holding the still buzzing toy against his lips; he eagerly lapped at it, grunting, and then I put it down between us. A shift of my hips and it was locked in place, directly against me, directly against the bulge of his cock. Papa shuddered, head falling back, and I pressed my lips along his jaw.

“Have you ever used a toy on yourself before, Papa?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, too busy grinding himself up into the vibrations, jaw slack. Then, he shook his head.

“N-not like this, cara.” 

When I pulled him down for a kiss I could taste how breathless he was. He fisted his hands through my hair and moaned, teeth scathing my lip. I rocked my hips slowly, feeling it starting to build; he tipped my head back to drag his tongue over my sore throat, grunting softly. My arms circling his head, I held him in place, tight against me. Where he belonged. I couldn’t believe there had been a chance he would be gone from my life forever. I couldn’t imagine life without him. He’d been my saviour and my leader for years - but then he became my lover, my best friend. A small part of my soul lived in him, and I hoped with all my heart he felt the same way about me. Him leaving would kill a part of me off forever. 

“I love you.” I whispered. He drew in his breath and caught my lips against his, kissing me hard until I had to pull away, gasping. 

“Mi completi, amore.” His lips brushed over mine as he spoke, and I melted into him, moaning his name softly as the wave crashed and wracked through my body. His own breathing became strangled and he lifted me with the snap of his hips, arms circling around me tightly. I just held onto him, breathing in his scent, tasting his skin on my tongue. My Papa. Mio amore. 

His breath quivered as he fought to catch it, his hands rising to cup my face. I kissed his forehead and then rested my own against it, smiling to myself. We sat in amicable silence, enjoying the afterglow - his fingers combed through my hair, and I drew patterns on his back with my finger tip. 

“I’d be lost without you.” I admitted quietly, drawing a little love heart onto his shoulder blade. Papa sighed, his eyes opening to burn into my own. Then, he spoke - softly, but with conviction.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I wanted to cry. I couldn’t kiss him enough. The English was perfect, which only ever happened when he memorised it.

 

-

 

Half-asleep, I bumbled down the corridor back towards my dorm. It was my own fault for drinking a gallon of pink lemonade before bed; a 2am run for the bathroom was never fun. Something occurred to me, though, waking me up enough to think about it. I could hear voices - hushed, but definitely there - coming from the common room. Frowning, I crept over and listened hard; rustling of packets, small giggles. When I poked my head around the door I was immediately blinded by a flashlight, a chorus of gasps further making my head spin. I shielded my eyes and peered at the group of juniors through the white flash in my vision.

“The hell are you doing up?”

Their eyes fell on each other. In their hands was chocolate and cakes, no doubt squirrelled away from the canteen.

“Are… are you gonna tell, Sister?” 

I snorted. 

“I got snitched on enough times by senior Sisters when I was a junior. I don’t particularly care what you do. But Imperator is going to catch you.”

“Oh, but she’s not in her room!” One hissed, stuffing an entire muffin into her mouth. I blinked, still squinting under the bright beam of the light. 

“What do you mean?”

“Sister Lily went to see her over a nightmare - I mean, over a thing. And she wasn’t in her room.”

“Where is she?” I insisted, heart starting to race. “Will you lower that light, for God’s sake?” 

She did as she was told, and they carried on eating. 

“Well? Where is she?”

“Dunno, Sister. Do you want some cake?”

“I don’t want any of your bloody cake.” I snapped. In all my years here, I’d never heard of Imperator breaking her schedule. She got her eight hours every night, to the minute; as soon as it was lights out she was in bed, a sleeping statue until she woke up at half five in the morning to start her day and eat before she woke up the junior Sisters. 

“She might have fallen asleep at her desk in her office. I once went into the Cardinal’s office and I’m pretty sure I’d woken him up.”

“I’ll… I’ll go check.” I felt sick. “You girls keep it down. And don’t leave any wrappers lying around. And go to bed as soon as you’re done.” 

They chirped in response and I left, leaving the door ajar. I didn’t even run back to get my slippers even though the cold of the stone floor was seeping through my socks. No lantern, either; I ran down the corridor and left our wing, not even checking if any Ghouls were around. I didn’t care if they told on me. I’d take the punishment for being out of bed any day over laying there, delirious with panic, until morning. 

I slowed down when I reached the spiral staircase that weaved down towards the wing her office was at, creeping down the stone slabs one by one. I could taste bile the entire time, and though I was breathing it felt like something was constricting my chest, suffocating me. 

The light was on in her office. I could see it from the other side of the corridor, and my stomach dropped. There was a very real danger of my body acting on the uncontrollable nausea but I crept forward, ears straining. I heard a low voice. A man’s voice. 

Nihil.

I tucked myself against the wall outside her office, trembling. 

“Everything is up to date now, Seestor… the paperwork, the conferences… is it really necessary?” 

“Yes, well. I can’t go back on orders now. It was hard enough to execute as it was. It’s by far too late now.”

“It was tonight, then?” 

“Yes, Papa. I’m afraid to say it didn’t go altogether smoothly; he wasn’t expecting it.”

“I cannot help but feel… guilty.” 

“We did what we had to do. We can’t afford dead weight in the ministry. Frankly, as soon as I lay eyes on him I knew he was a weakness.” 

“A shame, Seestor. A real shame.” 

Silence.

“He put up a fight, did he?” 

“From what I heard. They came to inform me once it was done; they had issues getting him out of the building. He was quite scared, apparently.” 

“Not the best wake up call to receive.” 

The tone of his voice. Cheerful. Joking. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Rooted to the spot, tears streaming down my face, I just listened. 

“Quite right, Papa.” I heard the clink of a spoon hitting against the side of a cup. “Well, he isn’t our problem any more. It’s taken care of.” 

They must have heard me run. I sprinted down the corridor as fast as my legs could carry me, nearly falling over, catching myself against a wall, steadying myself until I could run again. Every beat of my heart, every pound of my feet came with the same pulsating, howling thought in my head: no, no, no. 

I screeched my frustration into the still night air at the sheer size of the ridiculous abbey. His office was on the other side of the building, and I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere near close. Turning a corner, my foot caught on a rug and I fell - hard - but forced myself back up, limping as my knee ached until sheer desperation broke through and I ran on it, not caring that it was hurting. 

The ebony doors looked like a black mouth when I finally approached them, getting larger and larger with every step. My breath was burning in my chest and as I struggled to push the heavy wood open, I choked on my own tears for a moment, having to resist the urge to just crumple to the floor and cry. The office was empty, the air cold - and when I opened the door to his quarters, I immediately noticed he was not in bed. 

“No.” I whispered. “No, no.” 

Not in the sitting area. Not in his bedroom. Not on the balcony. I even went back and tore the bedding off frantically  the bed, just in case he was buried in the purple sheets somewhere. 

“Papa.” I croaked, twisting around - and there he was, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking tired and confused and very, very worried. 

The relief brought me to my knees. I sobbed loudly for a second, scratching my hands over his carpet. He was over in a flash, kneeling down beside me, muttering fast, shaky words it took my scrambled brain a while to decipher.

“Cara - cara mia - what is it? What is wrong?” 

I ran my hands over his shoulders, his cheeks, his hair - just checking he was real, that he was actually there. His white eye shone out at me through the haze of my tears, and the room spun.

“Nihil -” I choked. “Imperator - they - they said -”

His eyes widened, and I slowly pulled away from him.

“What? What, cara?”

“Imperator said they took you tonight.” Just verbalising the horrible words had me crying harder. I couldn’t stop touching him; he shook his head quickly, and I gazed up at him, his lovely face alleviating the panic that roared through me. 

But.

But then.

But then, it hit me. Wobbling to my feet, I brushed his hands off me. He spoke, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His voice was a tone somewhere behind me as I silently left, walking calmly, entirely numb. 

I wasn’t sure if he’d followed me. 

When I got there, the door was open. Inside, the quarters were empty. The bed was stripped. Nothing remained. No trace of him ever being here, ever existing. Mechanically, I opened a drawer of the dresser - nothing. I turned, and Papa was standing in the middle of the quarters, a black figure I ignored as I passed him.

The office was a void. No books, no papers. I sank down onto the chair - the chair I’d sat in when we’d first started to talk; where I’d wrestled with my feelings for him, scarcely believing I was infatuated by him. There was nothing left of him, now. 

The window was open. Even the smell of his incense was gone. 

Papa appeared. He knelt beside me on the floor, pleading with me quietly. When I looked down, I saw he was crying. Apologising. Swearing rueful, bloody murder and revenge. It didn’t matter, now. A part of my heart had been ripped from me. I gazed up, past the horrible unoccupied chair, and out of the window, at the uncaring stars above. Snatched in the night. Scared. 

Though my heart was beating, something ceased to live in me. It died there, in that bare office.

It took me a few moments to realise Papa was nudging at me, nudging something into my hands. I gazed at it listlessly. A folded piece of paper, with the word ‘cuore’ written hastily on the front. 

I unfurled it. 

 

_ If I am to die, let it be known I will die thinking of you. I waited my entire life and received the months I spent with you. I will gladly wait another lifetime to see you again. _

_ But, cuore mio, I cannot die in any semblance of peace knowing I have not spoken my most magnificent, sublime truth; my only regret is that I could not say it you with my own foolish lips.  _

_ I love you. I am in love with you. I will always love you.  _

_ Eternally yours.  _

_C._


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw for blood, violence, death.

_ Imperator.  _

_ The Abbess of the Abbey. The most senior Sister of the Satanic sect of Emeritus. Beloved, trusted, feared.  _

_ She sat quite still, bathed in the moonlight that poured into the chapel through the large windows. The moon was full, and due to a heavy downpour that had lasted the whole day no clouds remained to shadow it; silvery rays fell on silvery hair, her eyes closed in meditation. She was peaceful, here, under the shelter of the Dark Lord - the statue of the Goat looming over her from her position on the front pew. Her left hand held the glinting chain of her Grucifix, swaying slightly with the tiny, unconscious movements of her body.  _

_ A shadow materialised beside her, taking the opportunity to study her for a long moment before making its presence known with a hand on her shoulder. The Sister’s eyes flickered open, and she turned to the familiar face with a smile. _

-

“It is late, my boy.” 

Nihil regarded his progeny warily. Already dazed from having been awoken, he was also not used to seeing his son at this hour. It was rare for him to call for him at all. 

Papa Emeritus the Third bowed his head modestly.

“My apologies, father. I have something I have to discuss with you.”

“Perhaps it can wait for the morning -”

“Urgently.”

The beautiful lilt of his Italian was a sharp contrast to the gruffness of his tone. Nihil’s cloudy eyes swept over him once more and - with a small sigh - he left the door, turning back to retreat into his chambers. Papa closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off the older man, flashing him a smile as his father settled into a comfortable chair. Beside him, a sconce glowed a warm, orange light, washing out the old man’s pale skin to a strange sunlight colour. 

“Sit, my son.” 

His son did not sit. He wandered closer, hands behind his back, surveying the room with small grunts of appreciation. His father had taste, he’d give him that. 

“What is it, then? Why are you here at this ungodly hour?” Nihil wheezed, impatience causing his brow to furrow. Papa laughed at that, his hair - unusually messy - flopping over his forehead. 

“All hours are ungodly in our abbey, are they not?” A pause. “Or - should I say - your abbey, father?” 

The crease in Nihil’s forehead deepened and he said nothing, waiting for his son to continue. Papa moved one hand from his back to briefly touch the corner of a bowl of potpourri with his finger. Ungloved, Nihil noticed, relaxing further back into his chair. Perhaps he had been up late, working.

“Who runs the Church, father?” Papa asked, nonchalant - even though his entire body was rigidly tense. 

“You, my son.” 

Papa sucked his teeth, selecting a dried orange segment to examine in the palm of his hand. 

“On paper, maybe. But I don’t feel I do.” His mismatched eyes flashed over to his father’s. 

“Speak your mind, boy.” Nihil’s tone betrayed his annoyance. He was an old man now, after all; he wasn’t used to keeping these kind of hours. His son should know better. “You requested my company and you have it.” 

The piece of orange dropped from his palm back into the bowl, and Papa’s hand swiftly tightened into a fist. He sighed, jaw tensing for a moment as he thought. This time, when he regarded his father, his lips were tight, eyes crinkled as if he were already wincing. 

“Do I live up to your expectations?” 

-

_ “It really has been too long.” Imperator cooed, rising to her feet to greet him. “I feel we don’t spend enough time outside of official affairs.”  _

_ “Vero. But this is official affairs too, Sister.”  _

_ The Emeritus son picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, making her chuckle. _

_ “Just like your father. Such a charmer. To what do I owe the pleasure, Papa?”  _

_ “My sorry for asking you here so late. But this is, ah, very important.” _

_ Imperator’s eyes darted over to some movement in the doorway - but when she focused, there was nothing there. Old eyes playing tricks.  _

_ “Anything for you, Papa.” _

_ He bid her to sit, and then joined her on the pew. The pair gazed up in amicable silence at the Baphomet, its obsidian shining opulently under the moonlight. Papa rested a gloved hand on his knee and sighed deeply before turning to her. _

_ “I know what you plan, Sister.” He breathed. “My father and you. You made a plan about me.”  _

_ The wizened hand holding the Grucifix twitched. Imperator exhaled slowly, eyes closing. _

_ “I won’t lie. It… wasn’t a spiteful decision. Strictly business. I swore an oath - many moons ago - to protect this Church and perform in it’s best interests. Your father expressed some concerns to me. A sad decision to have to make, but a necessary one. At the time.”  _

_ She turned to regard him. Expressionless, the white paint shone almost luminescent, his white eye a blazing light despite the darkness shadowing that half of his face.  _

_ “Your father has since been pleased with your progress, Papa.” _

_ “Funny.” Papa remarked. “People are tending to work hard when their father is wanting them dead.”  _

_ Imperator didn’t know what to say. Now she was looking at him, she couldn’t turn away; captured by that brilliant white light of an eye. It reminded her of Nihil’s before the cataracts- so commanding, yet so indecipherable.  _

_ “The Cardinal.” Papa paused, waiting for any sort of uncontrolled reaction from her at the sound of the title - but there was no change in her serene features. “You bring him to replace me.”  _

_ Imperator’s eyes moved from side to side as she studied his face. Though this conversation was unpleasant, she could not sense any animosity from the Emeritus son.  _

_ She saw no reason to lie to him.  _

-

Papa had decided to sit, after all. He moved to tuck his shirt into the back of his pants and perched himself on the edge of the seat facing his father, face in his hands, elbows on his knees. Nihil wheezed, hand on his chest to feel the creaking complaint of his ribs.

“I have one expectation for my sons.” He rasped. “That you hold the Church in your first priority. My eldest son - a perfect example of this.”

“He worked himself to the bone.” Papa quipped. “He died, alone, at his desk. Surrounded by paperwork. No family. No friends.”

“Dedicated.” Nihil nodded. “A great man.” 

True. His eldest brother was a great man - from the very little he knew of him. By the time Papa was old enough to toddle, his brother was already put to work in the Abbey. He had fond memories of their fleeting interactions, and nothing more.

“Is that what you expect?”

“Your brother died doing what he loved.” Nihil’s tone hardened. “He could not have passed away more peacefully. What, you think because he wasn’t out - partying, gallivanting, spreading his seed - he lived a fruitless life?”

“I didn’t ask you that.” Papa replied, patiently. “Is that what you expect of me?”

His father did not respond, and Papa’s hands dropped to fold over his knees, his back arched so he was leaning as far forward as he could.

“Did you expect that of my other brother?” 

“I expected my second to use his attributes for the good of the Church. A powerful, fear-inducing man like that - squandered. To think of the influence we could have now if he had put his mind to it.” 

“Too busy having fun.” Papa mused. “Too busy… living.”

Nihil snorted, his chest clenching painfully at the sudden movement. 

“He only survived on whatever drugs he had pumped himself full of to get him through the day.”

His father’s eyes lowered, and Papa began to chew the inside of his cheek.

“We… we tried. I don’t know how many times we dried him out. But he was always back on it within a week. It was not a shock to us when he died.”

“It was a shock to me, father.” He straightened up, eyeing the old man carefully. “I received a phone call summoning me. No true explanation. ‘Your brother is dead. We need you back’.”

“Surely his drug-fueled death does not surprise you?” 

It had. 

The Second was the polar opposite of the First. A tall, terrifying man who tormented Papa ruthlessly and yet simultaneously was fiercely protective of him. When Papa had encountered a group of young peers who laughed at his extravagant, flamboyant mannerisms, he’d gone home in tears and told his brother what had happened. His brother had promptly left the house, and the very next day none of the boys would go near him. He heard on the grapevine of a savage beating on some older brothers, but nothing concrete. His own brother sported a grazed cheekbone for a week or two. Not a single word was breathed of him again. 

It had seemed like nothing would ever fell his brother. With the Dark Lord on his side, he was immensely powerful - and something as trivial as an overdose had killed him?

Doubtful. 

-

_ Papa’s gaze wandered back over to the imposing statue, and another silence fell between the two.  _

_ “We were only acting in the best interest of the Church.” Imperator repeated, quietly. Her thumb rolled the chain until the Grucifix spun.  _

_ “No need for this sorry, Sister.” Papa replied, gently, without looking at her. “I understand this.”  _

_ A little bloom of relief grew in her chest and she sank back in the pew, smiling over at his profile.  _

_ “What I do not understand,” Papa continued. “Is this decision to remove him.” _

_ Imperator blinked. _

_ “Papa, I -” _

_ “You know my oldest brother, yes?” He interrupted coldly, eyes cast up at the goat’s head of the statue.  _

_ “Yes, Papa.” _

_ “I do not know the English to say all that I want to say of him. But he was… ah… hardworker?”  _

_ “Hardworking, yes. Extremely.” _

_ “So many ideas. So much work. No complaining. Just… do. The Cardinal, he is reminding me of this.”  _

_ Imperator frowned, lips pursing. Papa glanced over at her, and clasped his hands together loosely.  _

_ “You are happy with my work, now. These planned conferenze and apparizione. Everything done, spickly and spanly, neat and tidily.” _

_ “Yes, Papa. Your… your father is impressed by your zealous work ethic. We have no use for the Cardinal anymore, so we made the decision.”  _

_ “He does this work, Sister. He helps me.” His eyes burned into her. “Perhaps the best thing to have in this Abbey, and you remove him.” _

_ A chill ran through her blood, and she just stared at him. _

_ “The decision to remove me is made by my father.” Papa’s hands tightened. “Okay. I take this. But perhaps you are forgetting this is my Church, Sister. All these… ah… every decision… it go through me.”  _

_ “I can… I can only apologise, Papa. I didn’t know -” _

_ “Tell me this.” He wasn’t interested in hearing her talk. She shrank back, hoping her heart would slow its steadily increasing pase. “If I say now, ‘Sister, the Cardinal comes back’... this is…”  _

_ Eyes screwing closed, Papa’s face contorted briefly. His drew in his breath shakily.  _

_ “This is… possible?”  _

_ “I… am not quite sure what you mean, Papa.”  _

_ “Dead.” Papa snapped. “He is dead?”  _

-

“What about me?” Papa prompted. “I know my work over the past few months has been more… play… but I do care for the Church.” 

Nihil waved his hand dismissively, eyelids heavy with sleep. 

“Is this all you have come to me about? Son, this is a conversation we could have had over breakfast.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Papa muttered. “There is never an easy time to ask why your father planned on replacing you.”

Silence. Nihil’s brow furrowed; he sat up slightly, jaw hanging open.

“What?”

His son rolled his eyes, straightening up. 

“No bullshit now, father, please - I’ve just come from speaking with Imperator. An eye-opening conversation. I learned how I’ve disappointed you.” 

Wheezing, Nihil struggled to right himself, clawed hands coming to grip the armrests. 

“Son, you understand - it is only for -”

“The good of the Church. Yeah, the Sister made it abundantly clear.” Papa grunted, dismissing his sentence with a flick of his wrist. “I’ve made my peace with it, I guess. Father, I don’t want to disappoint you again. I want to enjoy myself, but not so much I’ll end up like the Second. I want to work, but not until I give out face-first into a pile of parchment like the First.”

“I suppose a happy medium would suffice.” Nihil muttered, eyeing his son ruefully. Even from infancy his youngest had a spark of the chaotic within him. He left behind a long line of horrified Sisters who refused to nanny for him again; and then, once he got older, a long line of Sisters he’d bedded. Truthfully, Nihil hadn’t had much to do with the youngest. He didn’t even know he was staying in Italy until the Second died and he had need of him again. 

“Good. You agree.” Papa smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve thought about it, father. I must step up and lead this Church properly. Make decisions. Be as productive and as ruthless as the two of them combined.”

“Yes, yes, very well.”

“It was like an epiphany. All this power I have and I have very little to show for it.”

Nihil’s brow creased. The Emeritus sect of Satanism was among - if not - the most powerful in the world. Their influence may not be as much as it had when he was the leader, but it was still definitely felt. Did his son dream of something bigger?

“So!” Papa thumped his fist onto his knee, grinning; his father jumped, blinking wildly. “I’m taking control of the Church, father - properly. I started tonight. I made an order.” 

-

_ “Dead?” Imperator echoed. She shrank back from Papa, quite shocked by his forcefulness. He was concerned about the man who she had intended to replace him with. Very odd.  _

_ “Well, maybe not yet. He’s probably -” _

_ “Do not tell me this.” Papa’s voice boomed around the room. His hand flew to his chest and he took a few deep breaths, exhaling shakily each time. “Satanas. Thank you.”  _

_ “You’re welcome?” _

_ The look he shot her was withering. She fell silent, biting her lip.  _

_ “He comes back.” Papa ordered. “He comes back, right this second.” _

_ “If you excuse me now, Papa, I can return to my office and make the call to the Embassy -” _

_ “No need for this. A Ghoul will do it.”  _

_ Imperator frowned. She brought the Grucifix to her chest.  _

_ “I don’t want a Ghoul in my office, Papa.” _

_ She watched as Papa’s white hand smoothed over his hair and then come to rest on the back of the pew. He lounged quite comfortably now, head tipping back, eyes hooded against the moonlight.  _

_ “So? I make this order. My Church, Sister. Also… perhaps wrong to trust you so soon, hm?”  _

_ She laughed nervously. She didn’t know what else to do. Thankfully, he laughed too - she dared relax a little, glancing over at him. He caught her eye and grinned.  _

_ “You make a small mistake, Sister. You make this choice without me. Sad, but I forgive. We, ah, brush this under the floor, yes?”  _

_ Imperator nodded, ducking her head as she slipped the Grucifix back on. _

_ “I won’t ever undermine your authority again, Papa.” She vowed as she ensured the chain was centred on her chest. Papa rose to his feet, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he did so, and made to leave. _

_ “So long as you use it correctly, of course.” She added, softly, gazing up at the idol.  _

_ Papa paused, and looked over his shoulder at the old woman, eyebrow raising. A shadow shifted in the doorway. Papa ignored it, turning back to admire the same view.  _

_ “Vedo.” He muttered. Then, louder: “Sister, you join me in a prayer?”  _

_ “Certainly, Papa.” She clasped her hands but noticed him getting onto his knees before the statue, touching reverently at one of the cloven hooves. Though she huffed, she joined him, old joints creaking as she got down on the floor. Hands entwined, she gazed up at the unholy idol. _

_ “I am… ah… forgetting the English. Perhaps you say this, Sister?” Papa prompted, eyes darting over to her every so often.  _

_ She stifled a sigh. The leader of the Church not knowing basic prayers? Perhaps she would see the back of him one day, after all. But she did so love praying; her eyes fell closed so she could concentrate, her lips carefully enunciating each word lovingly.  _

_ “Hail Satan, our true Master, our Father below. On this beautiful night we pray to thee. May sin bloom in the hearts of thousands. May…”  _

_ Silently, Papa rose to his feet, gazing down at the faithful old woman. His head cocked, hearing her words reverberate around the chapel; above them, the Baphomet loomed, slitted eyes barely visible in the consuming shadows around it.  _

_ Imperator faltered when she felt a hand press onto her head, eyes opening briefly. Papa stood over her, smiling, nodding along to encourage her. Gooseflesh rose along her arms but she closed her eyes once more, reciting the words to the force she had dedicated her life to. He moved behind her, hand still resting on her head.  _

_ “... With pride in our voices we sing your praise, Old One, revelling in the Truth that you bring -” _

_ “You never undermine me again.” Papa whispered.  _

_ Imperator stopped again. She tried to turn but his hand was tight in her hair; swallowing, she tried to keep her tone calm.  _

_ “No, Papa. It… it won’t happen again.”  _

_ “I know.” Papa muttered, and she closed her eyes, sagging in relief. _

_ “I make sure of it.”  _

_ Fingers tightened savagely, and her head was jerked backwards. She wobbled, mouth opening to gasp - but Papa carved the knife through her neck before she could, his teeth clenched.  _

_ Blood sprayed onto the feet of the statue and began to pool in front of her; dropping her, he let her fall into it, wiping the knife clean on his red gloves before taking them off and tossing them at her body.  _

_ Papa rose to his feet, watching her corpse twitch and convulse as the life left it.  _

_ “Alpha.” He murmured, and the Ghoul slunk out from his sentry position at the doorway. “You take care of this.”  _

_ The Ghoul set about his task, lugging the body up onto his broad shoulders. Papa regarded the blood-stained statue, toying the dagger between his hands; the goat’s eyes stared back at him, the moonlight reflecting over the left eye.  _

_ With a low, graceful bow, Papa offered his gratitude to it before leaving the Chapel.  _

-

With some difficulty, Nihil navigated himself in the chair until the clock on the mantle came into view. 

“It is late, my boy.” He muttered; Papa nodded slowly, biting at his lip pensively for a moment. 

“Two questions. Then I’ll be out of your hair. Or, uh… what’s left of it.” 

He smiled tersely at the joke, but remained wholly unimpressed as his son rose out of the chair, staring down at him.

“What were you going to do to me?”

Nihil flinched, bringing his hands together to wring them. 

“Just… ah… send you away…” 

“I did tell you to cut the bullshit, old man. You were going to have me killed, weren’t you?” 

His theatrical shock at his son’s outburst went unappreciated. Papa continued to regard him, a hard line in his forehead.

“Son…” 

“I don’t want secrets in this Church.” Papa continued. “No creeping about, no talking behind my back. I’m not having it. Tell me, father, and we can carry on with a clean slate.” 

His wizened hand raised to his face and he groaned.

“You really want me to say this?” 

“Yes.” Papa replied, patiently. “I want to hear it from your lips.”

His father said nothing. Papa waited, eyes burning into him, hands twitching at his sides. 

“A small injection.” He muttered, at last. “You wouldn’t have felt a thing.” 

Though he had been expecting it, it hit him like a pile of bricks. He gasped in his breath rapidly. His eyes stung. But he gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Alright. Fine.” He swallowed. “So you admit it. And you’ll admit that my brother didn’t die of an overdose. You had him killed.”

Nihil began to protest but Papa pointed an accusatory finger at him, eyes blazing.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. Tell me the truth. Now. My Church. What I say goes.” 

“I’m still your father, boy.” Nihil snapped. 

“Yes, I’m fortunate enough to have your ancient blood in my veins. That’s about it. Tell me.” 

“A freeloading slacker like him had no place here. Yes. We cut the dead weight. He was barely alive as it was.” 

His words buzzed in Papa’s head. The two men stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment, hackles risen; until Papa sagged, his chin dropping so he could sigh.

“Thank you.” He muttered. “Thank you for the truth, father.” 

“You are most welcome, my son.” Nihil settled back in his chair. The walk back to bed seemed by far too long; he could doze here for a while, at least. “It may be difficult to hear -”

“Hush.” Papa hummed, coming closer. He picked up his father’s hand and inspected the rings; three papal, one belonging to Nihil, the other two belonging to his brother’s. There was a finger free - and it was all too easy to visualise his own ring there, on his father’s bony hand. 

Nihil’s eyes closed as his son kissed his ring, nodding slightly.

“It was a kindness, in the end.” Nihil mumbled. “Being that drugged up - one couldn’t truly be happy.”

Papa stiffened, jaw flexing as he studied the old man. A man he called his father yet, in reality, he barely knew. 

A man who had killed two of his own children, and planned on doing the same to his last. For no real reason. 

A man who would spill the blood he held in such high regard.

“It shows heart, you know. To make such decisions. To offer such empathy. True heart.” Nihil mumbled, already beginning to drift. He felt his son’s hand slip away from his own.

Papa scrutinised the man before him. A stranger.

A traitor. 

He slid the knife from where it was tucked into the back of his pants. 

“You see, old man, that’s where you’re wrong.” He whispered.

Nihil hummed, cloudy slits of eyes appearing under heavy lids. A sad smile grew on Papa’s lips.

“You don’t have a heart.” 

“Of… of course I do…” The eyes opened further, and Papa stepped closer. The knife lifted into the air.

“I’ll see if I can find one.” 

The knife fell. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bentornato.

Daybreak.

I get up. I get dressed. I sit in the common room.

Midday.

Dusk.

I get undressed. I go to bed. I wait for sleep to take me.

Night.

Endless night. 

I wrap myself in blankets and pretend my restless body is finally being held. 

The nightmare doesn’t end when the day breaks. It bursts anew. Fresh blood from an old sore.

I get up. I get dressed. 

 

-

 

The dorms were full of whispers. I hadn’t seen them myself, but apparently Ghouls had been taking over certain duties usually performed by Imperator. The inane squawks and babbles of junior Sisters I heard incessantly outside of my bedroom door quickly faded into the same low, piercing tone that saturated my every thought. So tired, yet unable to sleep. So hungry, but sick at the sight of food.

So indescribably, utterly grief-stricken, yet unable to shed a single tear. 

It got to the point where my brain drew up the curtains to protect me. Wobbling as I was on the precipice of a catastrophic mental collapse, my dear, overworked mind smoothed over the exact reasons behind our situation. Too horrible to consider, so I didn’t. 

I sat. Simply… waiting. 

At night, when exhaustion refused to give way to rest, and there was nothing else to blot out the noise in my head it would grow exponentially - pushing on the sides of my skull until it threatened to burst. Excruciating. But nothing compared to the desolate, empty pain of my heart. 

Days passed. I didn’t try to keep track. They all felt like the same one, anyway. Funny - how much time I had dedicated to praying to Satan, and I was finally in hell. 

I wasn’t surprised when Papa summoned me. He’d tried several times to make contact and - although it was likely he was feeling pain like I was - I couldn’t bring myself to see him. He’d want to talk about it. Maybe even cry. I’d had enough heartbreak.

“Sister? Aren’t you leaving?”

The junior Sister peered up at me. She was standing in the doorway so I couldn’t close the door. 

“Probably not. Thanks though. You can go now.”

Her eyes bulged. 

“But… Papa has asked for you, Sister.”

“It’s fine.” 

The Sister shifted from one ball of her feet to the other. 

“Sorry - but I’ll get punished if you don’t go…” She mumbled.

I frowned, and she smiled weakly.

“What?”

“That big mean looking fire Ghoul. He said he had to carry out Papa’s orders no matter what. He’s the one who told me to come get you.”

“He couldn’t come get me himself?” I scoffed. “He’d rather threaten a junior?” 

“Ghouls aren’t allowed in the dorms, Sister.” 

Hand on my forehead, I sighed. Deeply. Great. Now my hands were tied. Trust a Ghoul to do something as devious as bringing an innocent into the mix.

“Alright. I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

She bobbed a lopsided curtsey before dashing away. Resting my weight on the doorframe, I stood quietly for a few moments, trying to tame the confusing tangle of thoughts that had rushed to my head.

It had to happen eventually. Time to bite the bullet. 

I just wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him.

 

-

 

Somehow, the office felt huge. Crumpled and stiff in the chair, I sat and waited for Papa to speak. 

For once, he was at a loss for words.

His hands spread on the desk, Papa stared down at the glossy surface. He was restless - my presence only seemed to agitate him further. Several times, his painted mouth opened as if to speak… only to close it again with a snap, his brow creasing as he reconsidered his words.

“Cara.” He said, finally. His voice was quiet but still made me flinch. “I wish to start by saying I am -”

“Skip it.” I interjected. “I’m not talking about it.”

“...Cara…?” 

“Papa, I’m serious. I… I can’t.” 

“Mio amore…” He sighed as he got up, ambling over to hover beside me.

I rubbed my eyes. I wondered if he’d let me sleep in his bed for the next week or so. Maybe there, drowned in the dark silk, I would finally be able to catch it.

“What did you call me for? Are you okay?” I muttered, glancing up at him. Perhaps it was due to the fact I hadn’t seen him in however many days, but there seemed to be something different about him; something in the way he held himself. Some of his relaxed, casual stance - the carefree looseness of his character - was gone. 

Papa sat on the edge of the desk and studied me, expressionless, for a few seconds. 

“You think of the future, cara?” 

My scoff was unintentional.

“At the minute I’m not really thinking about the present, Papa.” 

“I know this.” His hand smoothed over his hair, then curled over the edge of the desk again. “But… you… ah…”

Jaw flexing, he huffed and tried again.

“You have the choice soon, cara. You finish the term as Senior. You know the choice?” 

“Yeah.”

Since the day I joined the Church my choice had been made. Though members were free to leave at any time, it was typical to stay up until the final year of seniority. When I set foot in the Abbey for the first time, I knew I would swear myself to the Church when the time came, and spend my life here. 

Now, it physically hurt. Like the corridors were slowly filling with poisonous gas. I was wilting. I hadn’t lived in the outside world for over a decade but the prospect of leaving this all behind was slowly becoming more and more seductive. 

Then again, could I give up the other man I loved? It was doubtful I could convince the leader of the Church to run away with me. I couldn’t imagine Papa leading a domestic life.

“Renew the vows, or… you leave.” Papa mumbled. I just looked at my hands.

“Cara, I don’t tell you what to do. But you know what I… ah… hope…”

“I’m not sure.” 

“I know this, cara, I know. But I must say this. We - I - have a position for you. If you want it.”

My head snapped up. He didn’t quite catch my eye.

“If you stay, you have this job. Senior position.

“I, uh… I don’t understand, Papa. What position?”

Had he created one just to keep me around? Cocking his head, his eyes travelled up my body to meet my questioning stare. 

“Abbess.” He said, quietly.

I sank back in the chair.

“You… have questions.” 

“To say the least.” I frowned over at him. He still wasn’t able to look at me for too long. “The rumours I’ve heard about Imperator, then - they’re true?”

“You hear what?” 

“Not much. She’s gone. Ghouls have been herding the juniors.”

“She’s gone.” He parroted, punctuating it with a nod. “Position free. For you.”

“Papa.” I muttered. “Thank you, but… I wouldn’t even know where to start. And, if I’m totally honest, I’m not sure I can… stay here.” 

How quickly his eyes filled with such deep sorrow. I turned away so I wouldn’t have to look, ignoring the pang of pain rumbling in the void of my chest. 

“Cara - I also ask you here for this -”

The phone on his desk rang, making both of us jump. Exhaling shakily, Papa leaned behind him to pick up the receiver, grunting a greeting. A voice buzzed on the other side. His eyes widened. He sat up straight.

“Vero?” He whispered. The hairs on my arms began to stand on end; slowly, I got to my feet. Papa’s shiny eyes flickered over to the window. 

“Now?” 

“What’s happening?” I asked, quietly. Where it had ceased weeks earlier - deep in my chest - a flutter ran through my heart. 

Papa set the phone back in the cradle and hurried to the window, bracing himself on the sill as he eagerly looked out. 

Outside, the sound of tires on gravel.

The door slammed behind me. Though my legs were shaking I ran as fast as they could carry me, my heart - unused to the activity - suddenly beating fit to burst. Air like fire in my lungs, I circled corners, careened down corridors, hurtled down the steps - until I was face to face with the door to the main foyer. 

Through the frosted glass stood several figures, and I could tell by the silver on their heads they were mostly Ghouls. The front door was open, too; the sparse sunlight making the cloudy bubbles in the door scintillate. 

Behind me, hurried footsteps. I planted my hand on the door and pushed it open; the Ghouls came into view as I stepped through, a few of them turning to look at me.

A group of them were gathered in front of the main entrance, obstructing my view, but I instantly knew. 

“Your Eminence, please, wait -”

I recognised the voice. The tall Fire Ghoul, who Papa had used to run errands for him sometimes. There was a hand on his shoulder and then he was swiftly pushed aside. 

He stood there, hat clasped to his chest, his white suit dazzling bright in the sunlight. The gauze was gone from his face - his wonderful, beautiful face - and he was staring.

In a flash he was stalking forward, brushing away the Ghouls that attempted to stop him. I couldn’t breathe. 

Dreaming. I had to be dreaming. 

Copia stood before me, close enough I could smell the incense on his clothes. 

Nobody moved. I gazed up at him, as lost in his eyes as the first time I had saw them. 

I whispered his name and he slowly sank onto his knee, his hand moving to capture my own. Though he was shaking - violently - he had enough composure to bring my knuckles to his lips. I felt his warm, trembling breath on my fingers, the scratch of his whiskers, the slight wetness of his mouth - and hot, hysterical tears poured down my cheeks. 

“Sister.” He breathed, clinging to me. I tried to urge him up but he stayed, eyes closing, pressing my hand to his good cheek. When I turned my wrist and brushed my thumb over his cheekbone he sighed and finally rose, not taking his eyes off me. 

“Bentornato.” 

Papa’s voice echoed throughout the foyer; Copia reluctantly dropped my hand and dipped his head, silent. Moving behind me, Papa continued:

“Good to see you again, Cardinal.” There was the slightest quaver in his voice; I wondered if the Ghouls would notice. “Ghoul, please - take these bags to the room, hm?”

I was aware that the Ghouls were staring at Copia and I; my cheeks flushed, and no one moved for a moment. Papa cleared his throat. One Ghoul hit another one and pointed at the twin trunks.

I couldn’t stop looking at him. Scarcely believing he was actually there, I slid my hand against my side and pinched the skin savagely - and he didn’t go anywhere. I wanted so badly to pull him into my arms.

“Cardinal, my sorry, but I see you in my office? Sister, you come too.” 

 

-

 

As soon as Papa closed the door I rushed to Copia’s side, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his chest. He moved to toss his hat aside and then his arms circled me, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe. I didn’t mind. Lost in the darkness, all I could hear was the thump-thump-thump of his heart.

I had no idea what to say to him. I cried. He rocked me gently, his lips touching the top of my head.

“My sorry for… ah… speaking…” Papa mumbled; I surfaced to look at him, my hands tight in the fabric on Copia’s back. “But I say this, or I explode. I… I had nothing to do with this, caro.”

Copia remained silent. Papa scratched at the back of his neck, eyes flashing about as he searched for the right words. 

“My… my father. And Imperator. Not me. But… not a problem, now.”

Papa studied us both. His gaze settled on me - and his face contracted so violently he had to turn away.

“I - I… sono così felice di averti trovato, caro. So che mi importa di ti, ma lei - lei ti adora.” 

Copia shivered, and pressed me even closer into him. Papa turned briefly to pat at the corner of his eyes - when he turned back, he was smiling, shyly. 

“I have lot to discuss with you. But this waits. You two… ah…” He gestured at us, hands splaying and then coming together. “... say hello…” 

After a beat, Copia gently peeled me off him. He captured my face in his hands and kissed the bridge of my nose carefully, casting me a lingering look as he broke away entirely. As he neared Papa, I noticed our dear leader flinch; his teeth caught his lower lip and he eyed the Cardinal warily. Copia stopped about a foot away from him. Papa wrung his hands. 

Then, Copia - hesitantly - opened his arms out to him. Just as awkwardly, Papa stepped forward, his own arms gingerly coming to rest around Copia’s body. Where his face peeked over Copia’s shoulder I could see he was panicking, tense - waiting to see what Copia would do.

But all he did was hold him. He stroked over his back slowly, and then mumbled something I almost didn’t hear.

“Thank you, piccolino.” 

Stunned, Papa’s eyes widened for a second. Then, they closed - a teardrop rolling down each cheek in quick succession. He gripped Copia tight, shoulders shaking.

“Not me.” He whispered - hoarse, desperate. “Not me, caro. I don’t make this happen. Please.”

“I know. I believe you.” 

His fingers twisted into Copia’s hair and he sighed, shuddering hard. Copia continued to lightly pet over his back, hushing him gently. Papa pulled away and, after pressing a long, tender kiss to Copia’s good cheek, he let him go entirely. 

“I have… ah…” He dabbed at his eyes again, shaking his head quickly. “...the business to do. I come back later - caro, I tell you the changes when I do. For now… rest.” 

He wandered through the office to the door that led to his quarters and opened it, waving his hand elegantly at the space inside. 

“Go, sit. Rest. I come back.” 

I took Copia by the hand and led him through. The quarters had been freshly cleaned; the hardwood floors shone with polish, and I could smell the fresh bed sheets from out in the hall. Papa ushered Copia through and then, with a final grin, closed the door on us. 

Now that I had him I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Cry? Laugh? I couldn’t stop touching him; my fingers danced over his, twining against the leather gloves. When I peered up at him he was looking down at me, eyes crinkled enough that I knew he was happy. It was funny how you got to know someone so intimately; months ago, I probably wouldn’t be able to recognise his tiny expressions. 

The scars were bad. The one beside his mouth that had been properly attended to was just a red line, shiny in some parts - but the rest were puckered and bumpy, adding even more texture to his face. I reached up to touch one and he grunted softly, eyes darting away. 

“Are you…” Looking at him, I noticed his green eye was bloodshot; the skin around it tinged yellow. “Are you okay?”

A nod. He placed his hands on my shoulders and studied me intently. 

“And you, cuore mio?”

“I am now.” I sighed. “I… I just stopped being a human for a while.” A lump rose in my throat and I seized his face, glaring at him.

“Do you know how much I fucking missed you?”

“You were all I was thinking about.” He muttered. “I prayed you were safe. Even if nothing happened to you… I wanted my last thoughts to be of you.”

“Stop it.” I choked. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

I pushed myself back into his arms and he sighed, rocking me.

“Alright. What do you want?”

Resting my chin on his chest, I looked up at him again. My wants and needs hadn’t been much of a priority over the last… how many days had he been gone? I didn’t want to think about it. Now that there was a beat in my heart again and he was here, with my arms wrapped around his chunky middle, it all started to catch up with me again - like I was a machine. Unable to work until he came back, and put all functions back into motion again. 

He was warm. And soft. He smelt like spices. His hand passed over my spine like he had done to Papa, his mismatched eyes flickering from side to side slightly as he watched me. Being in his arms was like coming home. 

And I was suddenly absolutely exhausted. 

“Copia.” I mumbled. “Can we go to bed? I’m… I’m really tired.”

“Is that what you want, Sister?” 

I nodded, closing my eyes briefly just to enjoy the feeling of him against me. 

“I imagine my trunks will be in my room.”

“We can stay here. Papa won’t mind.” I moved away and took him by the hand. He seemed skeptical, but I led him to the bedroom and tugged on the silk sheets until they became untucked. I tugged off the habit - and noted him staring at me as I deposited it on the floor.

“It’ll get crumpled if I sleep in it.” I smiled, stepping out of my shoes. Copia glanced down at his own body and then nodded, watching me slide into the vast bed before undoing the buttons of his white waistcoat with some hesitation. 

I nuzzled his chest when he finally climbed in beside me. He quickly arranged the sheets so he was covered but underneath I was pressing myself to him entirely, enchanted by the feeling of his skin on mine again.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink without you.” I mumbled. His chest hair brushed against my cheek while I got myself comfortable; Copia lay on his back so I could sprawl over him, tangling my legs with his own, moving to cradle my head. I felt his chest vibrate as he inhaled a shaky breath. When I tried to prop myself up to look at him he hummed and held me still, waiting until my eyes drooped again before relaxing. 

“Please. Stay right there.” He mumbled. 

Nodding, I ran my finger over the smattering of freckles on his arm, up his shoulder, over his neck. Soft, fuzzy skin. How many times had I cosied up next to the other man in my life and felt this exact same set of body parts, and how could they be so different from person to person? Where Papa was ropey, his collarbones jutting from his chest, his arms covered in a lean amount of muscle, Copia was fluffy, and broad. When I stroked my fingertip over his full lower lip, he closed his eyes and hummed - it came as a powerful, resonating purr in his chest, and I broke out into a smile. 

But when I moved my hand down to rest it on his stomach his own hand shot down to capture it and bring it back up. I sighed, too tired to fight him. 

I shifted - and something dug into my breast. No matter how many times I wiggled it wouldn’t move. I had to fish around in the cup of my bra to pull it out, gripping the battered piece of folded paper tight in my palm. 

“What’s this?” Copia whispered, and I closed my eyes, letting my hand fall open. He picked it up carefully.

“Your note.” 

He made a noise and sat up, bringing me with him. I clutched onto his shoulders and saw he was staring down at me.

“I kept it close. I thought… well, I thought it was all I had left of you.” 

It physically pained me to say it, and Copia winced like I’d slapped him.

“I should tear it up.” He whispered, regarding the creased paper with true misery. I quickly snatched it from him and held it to my chest again.

“No! I’m keeping it. It’s a note from you. It’s important.”

“I’ll write you a million more.” His eyes implored me but I didn’t relent. It stayed in my hands, and eventually he gave up, laying back down and pulling me back onto him. His hand stroked slowly through my hair.

“It’s a sweet note.” I mumbled, after a heavy pause. 

His lips touched my forehead. His moustache tickled against my skin as he spoke.

“I meant every word, cuore mio.”

He stayed quiet, then. I started to drift. Peaceful, at long last, with the rhythm of his heart bringing me closer to unconsciousness with every steady beat, his body cushioning and warming my own. 

Just as the edges of reality began to waver, and just as the pictures in my head began to become more vivid, I was somewhat aware of him kissing my forehead again, ever so gently, so as not to rouse me. His lips moved against my skin, forming those three small words.

_ I love you.  _

 

-

 

Copia was missing.

It didn’t alarm me; I was watching him from the comfort of the sheets. His back pressed into the wall, he was clearly struggling not to get too overpowered by Papa’s zealous affections. Papa’s hands twisted into Copia’s hair to keep him still while he kissed him. Whenever Papa gave him the chance Copia would gasp in some air, his own hands placed quite awkwardly on his shoulders. Papa moaned into him, tugging lightly, whispering incoherently. I didn’t need to hear it. It was probably something soppy intermixed with something filthy. 

Papa had discovered us sleeping, and Copia had gotten up to greet him politely. After a whispered conversation, they embraced. A quick peck had led to another. Papa had looked over at the bed to gauge my reaction, and I just popped a thumb up at him, too comfy to move. Papa really seemed chewed up about the whole situation even though it really wasn’t his fault; he still had that strange tension to him, too. 

But he was in his element now. His thigh was pressed between Copia’s, rocking ever so slightly into him. Dressed only in his underwear, I knew Copia would be feeling pretty uncomfortable - but Papa’s deep, impassioned kisses drew that out of him bit by bit. He didn’t react too badly when Papa’s hand traced down over his stomach to his midriff, palming at him through the fabric.

“Che cazzo.” Papa slurred. “I make it up to you, sì?” 

“Don’t… don’t have to…”

“Caro, caro, please. I feel the guilt. I make it up to you?”

His hand stilled - until Copia nodded quickly. Dragging his thumb over his panting lips, Papa pouted briefly.

“Satanas. Voglio scoparti. You fuck me again soon?” 

“Belial-” Copia whimpered. Papa tugged the waistband of his underwear down; as soon as his cock was free he had his hand around it, gazing at Copia as he bucked and thrashed, palms pressing into the wall. His hand started to work quickly; Copia’s head tipped back, and Papa moved his mouth to his neck. 

“Bene.” He whispered. “So good for me. Mi sei mancato molto.” 

“You - you don’t have to - fuck -” Copia’s hips snapped in time with Papa’s motions, his chest heaving; despite being quite a bit smaller than him Papa was able to keep him propped up against the wall, letting Copia shudder and quake as much as he needed to. There was a smirk on Papa’s lips that I recognised; he was back in control, now - able to convince himself that Copia had actually forgiven him. I couldn’t remember the amount of times I’d been mad at him, only for him to creep about after I’d accepted his apology, unable to believe I actually wanted anything to do with him anymore. 

Sex was validating. Papa knew sex. Having Copia pant his name into his lips was what he needed to hear. Papa kept pulling back from kissing Copia’s throat to watch him fall apart; he brought him so quickly so fast that Copia was hardly able to catch his breath. 

With a grunt Copia pulled Papa over to kiss him, air whistling into his nose sharply. When he bit at Papa’s lip he giggled mischievously, hand moving like a blur.

Copia began to bat at Papa’s arm, attempting to slow him down - but instead, Papa leaned in to whisper to him. I strained to listen, but there was no chance of doing so; whatever it was, it made Copia’s eyes widen, his white eye catching the scarce light. Papa nipped just under Copia’s ear - and he moaned, body jolting and then rocking rhythmically, pushing Papa’s face into his neck.

When Papa pulled away, I saw Copia’s torso glinting with cum. He looked about ready to collapse. He peered over at Papa with soft eyes, mouth hanging open, ragged breaths filling his chest. Papa’s finger traced over his jaw and he moved in for a small, chaste kiss before patting him on the shoulder.

“Good.” He whispered. He lifted his hand to his mouth, eyeing Copia as he dragged his tongue over it to clean it; then, his head dipped, and his tongue slid over Copia’s chest, catching every drop. He went as far as to graze his teeth over one of his nipples and broke out into a laugh at how hard Copia jumped.

Satisfied, he pulled back to look at him. He tapped him gently on the tip of his nose. 

“You will get, ah, sticky. Perhaps you go the bathroom and clean it proper.” 

Nodding, Copia turned to leave - stumbling a little at first, catching himself on the wall. Papa watched after him fondly, then pulled off his own stained shirt and ambled over to me. 

“Va bene, cara mia?” He sat himself on the edge of the bed, head cocking as he regarded me. Humming, I sat up so I could pull back the sheets and invite him in. Once he was lounging beside me, eyes flickering over to the door every now and then, I drew a small circle over his heart to bring his attention to me.

“Papa?” 

“Sì?” 

“You said something about an Abbess?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've decided to put this fic on hiatus until I finish university. The next few weeks are incredibly busy, and I don't want to rush out chapters.
> 
> I WILL return to this fic in May!


	24. Chapter 24

“This ass. I love this ass.” 

A gloved hand landed on the ass in question, causing the Cardinal to jump where he was leaning over the desk for a pen that had rolled away. His sudden jolt made it move again - right off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. 

Copia glanced back warily, already feeling his cheeks starting to warm at the sight of his Dark Excellency squeezing at him. 

“...Uh…” 

“Che cazzo. Sei cosi sexy, little rat - you know this?”

Not two minutes ago, the two had been sitting in comfortable silence, working through the paperwork quite steadily. Papa concentrated well, considering how boring he found it all; always eager to assist Copia, he would look at him with wide, sparkling eyes whenever the Cardinal worked out a complicated sum of various expenses in his head with barely any effort. Papa didn’t have the same relationship with numbers and letters that Copia did, and seeing the older man fly through the work astonished him to no end. 

In the two minutes that it took for the pen to roll, for Copia to rise to fetch it, and for Papa to clap his palm onto his ass with the force of a star going supernova, some scales inside of Papa’s head must have rapidly tipped; the arousal visible in his face was something Copia had come to recognise. 

“....Huh…” 

Copia didn’t put up a fight when Papa’s hand came to his hip and guided him quite roughly so he was facing him. Pressing him against the desk, Papa smoothed his hand into Copia’s hair and scratched at the centre of his scalp hard until the Cardinal shuddered, eyes rolling.

“S-sir…?” 

The Cardinal’s confusion was not unfounded. From where he had been sitting, poring over the work, he had not seen Papa’s growing restlessness, nor felt the Dark Pope’s odd eyes sweeping over him again and again. Papa hadn’t seen it initially - all those months ago - but there was something about the strange Cardinal that was terrifyingly alluring. The fact that Copia himself didn’t seem too aware of his own magnetic pull made it all the more intense. 

He didn’t know how much his mere presence wound his Papa up. After several hours together, Papa was on the cusp of sandwiching himself between those thick thighs and tearing the seams of the Cardinal’s pants just to get what he wanted. He would have, if Copia hadn’t been so hunched over the desk his nose was nearly on the paper.

As soon as he saw his chance, he was up - he watched Copia’s eyes flicker over him, surprised, landing briefly on his semi-hard cock where it bulged against his leg - and stroking at his pet in all the ways he knew how to get him in the same state he was. Fisting at Papa’s shirt, Copia struggled heavily in remembering how to breathe; even through the gloves Papa’s nails were sharp and insistent, hunting down just the right spot and lavishing enough attention there that the stimulation began bordering on painful. Simultaneously, Copia wanted to push him away and pull him closer.

He wasn’t allowed to speak. Papa kissed him fiercely, their noses colliding together as the hand in Copia’s hair tightened and brought him closer to him. Their bodies together, Papa took the opportunity to grind into Copia’s thigh.

Copia pulled to the side to speak. Ever the tease, Papa mirrored his actions to keep kissing him, the Cardinal’s whine muffled by his painted lips. But then he pulled away, tracing the tip of his nose up the bridge of Copia’s so he could plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Che succede?” He murmured.

“Not… not finished, sir…” 

Copia jumped once more at Papa’s exasperated huff, going stock still as Papa’s thumbs stroked over his freckled cheeks. 

“Is enough. You work good. Very hard. You… ah… are a good boy?” 

Heat pooled in Copia’s gut. His brow knitted, and he shrugged, briefly meeting Papa’s eyes. 

“Am I…?”

“Oh, si. Good worker. Good Cardinal. A very good boy. What is this saying, little rat?” 

Copia hadn’t noticed it but his hands had moved of their own accord, stroking up and down Papa’s sides with slow but increasing tension. The fabric had rucked up; it was only when Copia’s palms hit Papa’s skin a fresh wave of heat flooded into him. He crept his fingers up to Papa’s ribs, biting back a proud smile as the smaller man shivered into his touch. 

“Work hard, play harder.” 

Copia was pretty sure it was just ‘play hard’ but he wasn’t about to correct him - especially not as Papa was drawing near again, pausing just beside Copia’s ear so his breath was tickling his neck. He spoke quietly and melodically, like he was casting a spell. Eventually, Copia realised he was speaking to him in Italian. It was strange to hear his mother tongue so intimately after all these years.

_ I want to touch every inch of you. I want to run my hands all over your body. I want to stroke your cock, darling - I want to stroke it until you’re wet and needy for me, then I’ll worship it with my tongue.  _

A strangled noise wrung itself out of Copia’s throat; grinning, Papa dragged the flat of his tongue over the slightly stubbly neck of the Cardinal, his lips returning to his ear.

_ Do you want that? _

Just underneath them both, on the desk, sat the final pile of papers they had to fill in and file away - exceptionally important files that the Ministry demanded on a strict schedule. The thought of not finishing them on time and having to face the wrath of the sharp tongues of fellow Clergy via written correspondence was enough to break Copia out into a cold sweat. The thought was quickly overridden, though, with an image: of Papa on his knees between his legs, gazing up at him while his lips - so slick with spit and pre the paint had given way to the pretty pink of his flesh underneath - sank further and further down towards the base of his cock. 

The Ministry could wait.

With Papa pulling insistently on his lapel, Copia was tugged from the desk and towards the door to his private quarters. Once inside, the Cardinal interlaced his fingers, trying not to stare as Papa twisted the key in the lock and then stalked back over to him.

How did a man so much smaller than him have the ability to move him so easily? Dancing hands and gentle words led him to the sofa, and once he was comfortably settled on the black upholstery, Papa climbed astride him. His superior studied him under heavily lidded eyes as he peeled off his gloves.

Copia held onto Papa’s slim waist a little awkwardly. Papa’s gaze bore into him but he was unable to tear himself away from the eyes that matched his own. Lips parted, his breath already rasping between them, Copia tried not to shiver as Papa began to caress his face, cupping it in his palms and stroking the pads of his thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Caro…”

A reverent sigh, breathed like a prayer. Papa closed the distance between the two and Copia reciprocated eagerly, working his tongue into Papa’s mouth and earning a low hum of approval as a result. Again, his fingers crept under the hem of Papa’s shirt so he could revel in the feeling of his skin, soft and warm. 

Before he pulled away entirely, Papa pressed another small peck onto Copia’s lips. Then, he sat back and began unbuttoning his own shirt, biting at his lower lip.

“This touch… feels good.” He whispered. A cock of his head sent some of his hair tumbling over his forehead - between that and the pale skin of his chest that was slowly being revealed with each pop of a button, Copia didn’t know where to look. 

He would do so much more than touch. Once the two halves of his shirt were pushed aside and the whole garment was discarded, Copia wanted to rub his cheek against the sparse hair that speckled Papa’s chest. Kiss over his collarbones. Rake his nails down his back while his teeth and tongue found one of his nipples, hard and sensitive, and kissed and sucked and pulled. Papa’s body was so very different from his own; it was unfortunate he’d never been able to take his time to explore it. His Dark Pope grew impatient easily. His skin was thin enough to show bones and tendons, and pale to the point of luminosity. Despite having such dark hair on his head, his chest was a little lighter, catching bronze under certain light. Another patch of wiry hair began around his navel and disappeared down into the waistline of his pants. Copia presser his thumbs over Papa’s hip bones and watched how they shifted under his skin as Papa started to roll against him, whimpering softly at the feeling of Copia’s hard cock straining against his ass. 

“How long, caro?” Papa kept his rhythm slow and even. “How long you know?”

“What?” Copia rasped. Each rock brought delicious friction to needy flesh. Very suddenly, it felt as if his own clothes were stifling; he would surely explode if his own skin wasn’t against Papa’s. 

“How long you know you like men too?” 

All he could offer was a shrug. That was a Pandora’s box of learnt guilt and shame he wasn’t prepared to open when he was in his right mind, never mind when drunk on lust. Papa leaned back until he was in just the right position for his rocking to satisfy them both. Eyes closing, he smiled a little, his hand anchored in the hair at the nape of Copia’s neck while the other began picking at the buttons at his front.

“I always know this.” He muttered. “I do everything with boys first, you know? First kiss with a boy. First date. First fuck. Girls too, of course, but something about boys, hm?”

Papa looked over at his lover, his hand tucking under the collar of his shirt to stroke at the fuzz that covered him. Impatient, as always. Copia said nothing but he stared up at him, enthralled, and nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“Me, I start early. You… much later, yes? But you always have this feeling, too. I take this off? I want to touch.”

Papa tugged lightly on Copia’s shirt; he nodded again, and reluctantly let go of Papa’s hips long enough to raise his arms so Papa could strip him. He tossed it away and quickly buried his fingers into the dense hair that covered Copia’s chest, feeling his cock twitch.

Lucifer below. He fucking  _ loved _ bodies. Each one was so beautiful yet so unique. He hadn’t met one he hadn’t liked. And Copia’s with all of its heft and hair and curves ignited something within him unlike anything else before. Perhaps it was knowing that his Cardinal could very easily take what he wanted from him, but his nature being far too good for him to do anything but be cautious and careful. 

It was a shame Copia didn’t like his body very much. But, Papa reasoned, as he pressed a small kiss to Copia’s forehead, he could easily love it for the both of them until he convinced him otherwise. 

“You do lots with men, caro?” 

“Probably… not as much as you…”

Papa giggled, his hand sliding down to undo his belt buckle. The ache of his dick being restrained by his pants was getting to be unbearable.

“Vero, vero. But you do it all?”

“I… guess so.”

“I think this. You fuck me to good for not. You know I think still about the… ah… hotel? The night? Feel so good, caro, fuck-“

Papa had started lightly bouncing on Copia’s lap, his hand shoved into his pants to squeeze at his cock, moaning softly. He could feel Copia’s underneath him - so fucking hard for him already.

Such a good little pet.

“What about -  _ ah  _ \- what if - I stay ready for you? Always? I have the plugs, caro - you choose. I wear. You want to fuck me, you find me?”

That would be a ritual Papa would dutifully celebrate with religious piety if he thought Copia would actually seek him out to fuck him during the day like that. Still, the thought of going through his morning routine as normal only to stop, lube himself up and shove a plug inside of him so he was always stretched for the Cardinal had his stomach twisting. He wouldn’t be able to get anything done. Maybe he could dig out the vibrating one, and give him the remote…?

Papa’s nails scored Copia’s flesh momentarily as he was broken away from his less than Christian thoughts at Copia rocking into him with such fervour he lifted him quite high into the air using just the power behind his hips. Those thighs were being put to work - good. 

“Satana.” Papa wheezed, hands scrabbling over his chest. “You fuck me? Yeah?”

Copia blinked. 

“You… like it that much?”

Papa sat back.

“You do not?”

Perhaps it had been wrong of him to assume, but Copia’s non-domineering personality had led him to believe the Cardinal had been pounded into a few mattresses in his lifetime. 

“You do not mind me asking this, hm?” Papa began carefully winding a lock of Copia’s hair around his finger. “But… you get fuck before?”

Silence. Copia had never looked such a fetching shade of red before. His head ducked, Copia shrugged again. Papa stayed quiet, too, busy trying to soothe him by stroking over his scalp. He wasn’t expecting a real reply, so when Copia spoke up again, it took him by surprise a little.

“Few times.”

“Hm? You like it?”

Another shrug. Papa frowned, briefly touching at Copia’s full lower lip to bring him from his thoughts. 

Not many people had cared about Copia’s pleasure - men and women alike. Papa’s desperation confused him. The act he described Copia viewed with indifference. It felt weird, and not particularly good. He hadn’t gotten anything from it. 

When he explained this in his quiet way, Papa tutted and rolled his hips again, looping his arms around Copia’s neck.

“Ahh. I see. No one do this to you properly? Make sure you feel good?”

“Don’t… don’t know, sir…”

“When you fuck me, caro, it feel so good. Maybe it is because you are so… ah… richly endowed? But this is whatever. The point of this - I cum so fucking  _ hard _ . It feel amazing.”

Interesting. Though flushed and shifty, Copia’s heart started to race. True, a few times he had felt the ghosts of something pleasurable. But his partners never bothered to ensure his comfort… however, the same could not be said for Papa. Hedonism ran through his veins. If there was a chance for pleasure, Copia was pretty sure Papa had chased it.

“I love this ass.” Papa added, as casually as he could. “If you want… we try? You say stop, we stop. You fuck me instead. Or we do a cuddling. Whatever you want.”

Did… did Copia want that? Could he imagine himself getting prepared by Papa, being the sole focus of his attention as he slowly stretched him open with his fingers? He didn’t doubt he’d be gentle. And maybe he’d give him some of that feeling he was talking about? 

Come to think of it, the more he thought about his Papa fisting his hair as he held him onto the bed while he fucked him, the more a single, resounding ‘YES’ wavered into focus in his mind’s eye.

Once they were on the bed, though, all his nerves hit him all over again. Papa stripped off completely, wandering around his room with the easy confidence befitting someone who looked like him. Curled up under the sheets and feeling increasingly like there was a spotlight on him as the seconds ticked by, Copia wanted to melt down between the springs of the mattress and never return. 

He really hadn’t considered the logistics of this. Papa was so much smaller than him, so if Copia lay on his back then Papa would have to sit up to get a good access - and Copia’s stomach would be on display. But what was the alternative? Ass up on his superior’s sheets? He watched, nauseated from anxiety, as Papa fished out a sizeable bottle of lube and some condoms from his bedside table drawer.

“Now, caro, you relax.”

Easier said than fucking done. Beautiful, perfect, handsome Papa was crawling over to sit near him and pet at his face while he sulked under the covers, ugly and fat and - 

The jolt of sensation made him glance down. Papa was playing with his nipple, rolling it between deft fingers while he leaned in to kiss at Copia’s neck. Each press of his lips helped quell the nerves - Papa found the spot under his ear that seemed more sensitive than the rest and bit gently, making Copia bite back a moan. At the same time his hand was caressing his chest, pausing to tug at the hair with a slow purr he felt against his skin.

“This body.” He sighed. “So good.”

The panic grew all over again as the hand drifted down, lower, lower - and then up again, avoiding his stomach entirely. He did it again and again, feeling Copia relax a little more each time. The promise was silent, but clear:  _ nowhere you don’t want it _ . 

Papa’s hand delved under the covers to stroke his cock instead. As soon as he got his fingers around it it was leaking - with Copia, his body always reacted like he hadn’t been fucked in years. It took so little to get him worked up. All too soon, Papa watched in silent glee as Copia gasped and whined at each pass of his hand, at each twist at the broad base. Hot, and heavy from so much blood; it was a wonder his brain had any left at all.

He had arranged the pillows in a particular way - as if he’d read Copia’s mind. The Cardinal found that when he was gently encouraged onto his front, the pillows propped him up enough to be accessible without being entirely on display. In fact, Papa waited for him to get comfortable before sitting on the back of Copia’s thighs, running his hands over his back in slow circles until he felt some of his tension melt away.

“This is okay?”

“Uh-huh…”

There was a pillow right between his legs. Each time Copia shifted, his cock ground up against it, and a sliver of bliss would seep into his gut. It was easier now to just close his eyes and try not to overthink everything. Already, this was a hundred times better than any previous attempts at this. 

Behind him, Papa’s body was shaking lightly. He guessed he was jerking himself - and though it was an alien thought for someone to be pleasuring themselves to the sight of his body, it was like tossing a match into a barrel of gasoline. 

Papa wanted him. 

And he wanted Papa to be pleased.

Copia - after all - was a good boy. Only good boys got fucked by their superiors. Only good

boys got all this attention and lust and want and care lavished upon them. 

Jesus. He was rutting against the pillow somewhat desperately now, eyes squeezing closed.

Papa muttered under his breath, practically delirious from desire. Underneath him was Copia’s broad back and shoulders - faintly marked with bruises from the Sister’s teeth - moving down to his ass. The urge to play with it was unbearable. Each time the bed moved suddenly it would jiggle in the best way. He knew that if he slapped it, it would come up a lovely red - and he also had a feeling that Copia wouldn’t particularly mind, either. 

But as tempting as it was to lean down and bite at it, Papa settled on giving one of his ass cheeks a good squeeze. Copia jumped, and Papa broke into giggles.

“It is… ah… what is it the kids this day say? It is… a fat ass.”

“Please… don’t say that.” 

“My sorry, caro - I just try to tell you it is very very good. Very sexy. You still want me to-?”

“ _ Yes _ , sir.”

Any time Papa moved away from him, Copia would tense up. He took a while to lube up his fingers before settling back over him, his free hand stroking through Copia’s already sweaty hair. 

The key was not to overthink. So Papa busied Copia with the filthiest words he could fathom. He described in great detail just how horny he made him. How there had been times he’d had to excuse himself from official happenings to dash to the bathroom, lock himself away, and fuck himself into his fist just because the thought of his Cardinal was driving him so crazy. He admitted some of the things he’d said to the Sister - some of the fantasies the more depraved part of his mind cooked up whenever he was alone with his hands in the deep dark night. 

By the time Papa was detailing how no matter how thoroughly he tried to fuck himself with a toy it never seemed to compare to Copia’s cock, he had three fingers inside of him, and Copia seemed none the wiser. He was busy rutting and whining, nodding frantically whenever Papa asked him how he was. Laying it all out to him was somewhat embarrassing but exhilarating, too - Papa’s dick throbbed, pressed up against Copia’s ass cheek, desperate to be touched but neglected in favour of the shuddering man below. 

“Adesso…”

After applying a little more lube, Papa pushed his middle and ring finger into Copia again, sinking them into him easily. Copia sighed, and then stiffened up as Papa began to curl his fingers forward.

“Wh-?”

“You feel it?”

“Wh..wh?”

Papa found what he was looking for. Slightly hard, slightly squishy - he stroked at it gently, while Copia made a noise like a jet engine warming up. Underneath him, Copia’s strong thighs tensed and rippled as he strained to both buck into that feeling, and grind his cock into the pillow.

“Bene?”

A little more pressure and Copia swore, his hand flying up to brace himself against the headboard. Giggling, Papa continued to play with him quite gently, knowing how intense it could get.

Sandwiched below the pillow and his stomach, Copia’s dick was unbelievably hard. He felt like he was going to explode at any moment - but all of this was still not enough. Papa’s fingers were nice, but they could only reach a small part of that mystery area.

“P-please…” Copia groaned. His head fell down to muffle a series of moans as Papa continued to work that spot with slow, careful strokes. At one point, he fluttered his fingers, and Copia thought he would die right there. 

“More?”

His consent came hissed between his teeth. Papa crooked his fingers hard and Copia convulsed, whimpering.

“Più forte.”

“ _ Yes _ .” 

Copia had expected the fear to come back to him in the time it took for Papa to prepare himself. He heard the rip of the condom wrapper and the cap of the lube opening again, but the only thing that dominated his system was overwhelming impatience. Gripping the pillow, he tried to keep his breathing even. Cold lube on warm fingers found him again, slicking extra onto him to be safe - Papa had put enough on himself that it was dripping from him and onto Copia’s ass. One hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Copia huffed in his breath, tingling with anticipation. 

It was odd, but it did not hurt, thankfully. He knew that Papa’s cock wasn’t as thick as his own, but it felt huge as it slid into him; Papa sank it into him, inch by inch, pausing each time Copia shifted to ask if he was okay. 

He was more than okay. When he had done this before, he had never felt much more than pressure, and self-consciousness. Papa swearing and panting as he pushed into him quickly shoved most of Copia’s insecurities into a box. 

When he rocked his hips back to try and force more of Papa inside, Papa laughed, fisting his hand into his hair playfully. 

“Soon, soon. I promise this. C-cazzo… tight…” 

Eventually, panting from effort, Papa’s cock was buried inside of him. He waited for a moment for Copia to adjust fully, running his hands over his back and up to his shoulders.

“Lentamente.” Papa murmured. “Slow, first.”

It felt good. But not quite like how his fingers had made him feel. Copia kept shifting about, trying to get his body in a place where Papa’s cock would hit that spot inside, but he was pinned underneath the other man. The only thing he could do was collapse into the pillows with a bratty grunt, watching the edges of his vision blur until nothing else existed except for the bed and the man behind him. 

Then, Papa was moving. He adjusted his seat on Copia’s thighs, pulling out a little, then pushed forward carefully. It went deep, and Copia let out a shaky breath. Another adjustment, another slow thrust - and the head of Papa’s cock dragged over that area again. 

Fireworks. Copia stiffened and groaned, eyes rolling; smirking, Papa thrust again, letting every inch of his shaft rub against it.

His body couldn’t decide whether he needed to hold on to the headboard or the pillow, but it knew he had to hold onto something for support. Papa fucked him with slow, careful strokes, making each one count. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life. A whole new world of pure fucking bliss, and his own Papa was delivering it to him. 

He grew greedy before Papa’s eyes. The shy, meek man arched and rolled his back, desperate for more friction. Papa indulged him. Each time he hit his prostate Copia would tighten around Papa. It was like his body was already trying to milk him dry. 

When Papa pulled out, Copia growled in frustration. His Papa was urging him onto his back - he didn’t  _ want _ to be on his back. He wanted to be face down in the pillow while his Papa fucked him like that, and sent every synapse and nerve firing off at the same time. But he was insistent, and eventually Copia flipped over, covering his face with his hands.

Papa stole a lingering glance over his body. How did he hate it so much? Papa couldn’t imagine looking at it and feeling anything but pure, burning lust; the Cardinal knew almost instinctively what to do now, spreading his legs when Papa nudged his way between them. He knew his little rat would be more insecure about being fucked like this, but he needed access to Copia’s cock. Swollen, purple, fat with blood - Papa could feel the thick veins against his palm as he stroked it, using his other hand to ease himself back inside of him. 

“Lay like this… so I…” 

Copia obediently flattened out more. Sitting back on his haunches, Papa rolled his hips into him, driving into that spot over and over again while his fist was a blur over Copia’s cock. Copia pushed the hair from his face and moaned, feeling the pleasure inside of him building like never before. All of his body was hot and desperate and greedy and each thrust only made it worse, each time Papa twisted his hand over the leaking head of Copia’s cock a fresh wave would hit and Copia didn’t know how high it would go but it kept getting higher, stronger - Papa was pounding him now, the sound of his hips colliding into Copia making an obscene smacking noise that spurred them both on. Papa hissed and swore. Copia’s eyes watered from how good it was. On the edge of his periphery, somewhere beyond the pleasure that swamped his system, he could just about make out Papa’s hurried, breathless, Italian praises; Copia’s heart surged. 

_ Good boy. Such a good fucking boy, taking my cock. I want you to cum, little rat - cum for me, right now - _

White noise, white flashes. The world ceased to exist. There was only pulsing, radiating euphoria. He felt an almighty moan tear from his throat but didn’t hear it. Lips found his neck. The body moving into his own shuddered and stilled.

It just kept going.

Adoration overcame him. Copia blindly reached for his lover, and crashed their lips together.

 

-

 

His thighs hurt. 

He forgot that happened. 

It made sense. He’d been keeping himself open for Papa. But every time he moved now, a little twinge ran through his muscles - enough to let him know that he’d be very sore tomorrow.

Worth it.

After it was all over, he was still shaking so bad that Papa had to clean them both up. He tried to apologise but Papa hushed him, fussing over him incessantly until they were both clean and comfortable. 

They lay together in amicable silence, too hot to be as close as they wanted but settling for tangling their legs together. Papa was smoking. Copia was sleepy. 

“She give you some back, hm?”

Copia rolled his head over to look at Papa. He had sweated off most of the makeup, and the lips that wrapped around the filter of the cigarette were pink and bitten. 

“Huh?” 

“The neck.” Papa gestured briefly with the cigarette, then reached over to tap it into an ashtray on the bedside table. “The bites.”

Copia reached up and ran his fingers over the small bruises that littered his neck, and nodded.

“She said it was only fair.” 

Papa just chuckled, and Copia returned to looking up at the ceiling. Papa’s ceiling didn’t have a crack like his. It had a chandelier. 

“She… ah… misses you. You are a lot for her.” 

Copia missed her too. Even now, despite them being in the same building, he missed her. Where he was very fond of Papa, how he felt for her was beyond description. He could learn all the languages in the world, dead or otherwise, and still not be able to tell her. 

“This for me, too.” Papa muttered, taking a long drag. Blushing, Copia nodded, and hoped the other man would get the message.

Judging from his smile, he did. 

Sleep weighed down at Copia’s eyelids. The bed shifted, and he glanced over to watch Papa stub out the cigarette and then lay back down, tucking his hands behind his head.

“You are here.” Papa mused. “So she stay.”

“She was going to leave?” 

“I…. Maybe?” Papa looked over at him. “She was sad. Very sad.” 

_ But what about you? _

Copia didn’t dare say it. He chewed his lip instead, pinching the silken sheet between his finger and thumb and rubbing it together. 

“I offer her the job.”

His eyes fell back to him. Papa scratched his chest. 

“Imperator.”

“Oh.”

In his heart of hearts, Copia knew Papa had something to do with them leaving. He had whispered it to him the night he had returned, pressing him against the wall and telling him it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. How Papa had solved this problem was still unknown to him, and if he was truthful, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

“Abbess?” Copia clarified. Papa nodded, reaching over to wipe a spot of black from Copia’s chin. 

“Sì. She not say yet, but… I think she takes it.” 

His beloved swearing herself to the Church for the rest of her life. Her being here, forever. Him doing all he could to make her happy and successful and proud. 

Copia’s heart skipped, and he laid his hand over it.

“The oath.” Copia muttered, hopefully nonchalant. “If she takes the oath, then…”

“She stays.” Papa finished, closing his eyes. “The Sister who stays.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's certainly been a while. 
> 
> It's my birthday today, so as my un-birthday gift to you all (or birthday gift if you're a bday twin - hello!), I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Updates will becoming soon, and regularly. In the months I have been gone I have sat and passed my exams, graduated, been interviewed and accepted for a dream job.
> 
> Today, I celebrate going around the Sun 22 times by posting two Italian idiots having sex.
> 
> Love you all, and thank you for your patience.


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